Time Lag
by Hestia01
Summary: Mulder and Scully are investigating a series of suicides that seem to be connected to a mysterious artifact.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This takes place in _multiple_ alternate universes. Yes, I've screwed up some timelines but I've tried to keep what I can intact. Leave your canon purist cards at the door. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Files or any of its characters. Nor do I own anything else I may have mentioned throughout the fic. External use only. Void where prohibited. Side-effects made include nausea, dizziness, sinus headache, heartburn, and death.

It started out as a normal investigation: a series of suicides all within the same town, all occurring within days of each other. Foul play had been dismissed by the local police. No usual suicide notes or reasons behind the victims' actions could be found. Up until their demise, each of the victims had all the appearances of leading happy, fulfilling lives with no history of depression. It's like each of them woke up one day and decided to die. With no explanations to satisfy the families of the victims, they brought in the X-Files team.

"Let me guess," Scully ventures as they near their destination, "Ghosts from the cemetery possessed the victims and made them kill themselves."

Mulder smirks at her obvious sarcasm. "Not my first guess, but I'll take it into consideration."

"Did they find any evidence of cult activity, possibility of a suicide pact between them?" She guesses, more seriously this time.

"Not bad, but as far as anyone's told us, none of them had any real connection to each other. In a small town like this, everyone seems to know each other, but nothing deep enough to explain this. That's what we're here for; maybe there's something the local PD missed."

The rest of the trip is continued in silence. They check into their motel and form a plan of attack for questioning the town. After hearing from several people, friends and loved ones of the victims, they had little to go on, leaving both agents frustrated with the case.

That night, they go over what they know.

Scully reads over their notes they collected. "Five suicide victims, ranging in age from 25 to 40, varying sexes, no connecting physical features, from all appearances a standard sampling of the town. It's starting to make me wonder what we're doing out here. We've found nothing to suggest that there's anything unusual about any of this."

"Except they all died within a week of each other, with no known motivation or history of mental illness. There has to be more to it than this. What else did we find out?"

Scully sighs, flips through their notes, "So far, the only thing vaguely resembling a lead is that about a week before their deaths they'd all been to some exhibit at the local museum. Maybe they contracted a contagious illness and died so suddenly it looked like suicide."

"With no one else in the town catching it? It's not much of a lead, but it's the only one we have. What do we know about this exhibit?"

"Unsurprisingly, it didn't draw much of a crowd. It was only one piece that not even the curator knows what it's supposed to be. Someone just found it and brought it in. No clue even what culture it's meant to be from. Sounds phony to me."

Possibly spurred on by her skepticism, Mulder stretches and looks ready for action again. "Might be worth a look."

First thing in the morning, they visit the local museum to find out what they can. Just off to the left of the entrance, they see a man wearing gloves handling what must be the mysterious artifact, placing it in a new Plexiglas display case. There's no identification card, although there is a poster next to it, featuring the person who found it in his field. Both agents peer in at it briefly. There really isn't anything terribly remarkable about it. It's a largish, about the size of a bowling ball, polished black stone with three concentric circles scratched in it, looking like a bull's eye symbol.

Scully addresses the employee nearby, "This was found in the area, is that right?"

"That's right. Out on Schmidt's farm, just a few weeks ago. We've sent pictures of it around but no one recognizes it. Kind of a mystery."

"Looks like you're making it a permanent fixture here," Mulder assesses. "I saw you put it in the case just now, was it just out in the open before?"

"Well, we don't get many visitors, so chances of it getting stolen are pretty low, but we had a few people walk in and start handling it and I'm more worried about keeping it in good condition."

"Who, kids?" Mulder asks.

"No, actually, the last people to see it didn't even come with a group. They must've just read about it or saw it on the news and just stopped by." The worker stops, suddenly contemplative. "Strange, now that I think of it...you're here investigating all those deaths...I'm certain some of them were here just a day or two before they..." he trails off, looking unsettled.

The two agents exchange looks. They immediately guess each other's thoughts and Mulder grasps her wrist, restraining her.

"Scully..."

"It's fine, what could happen?"

"I have a bad feeling about this, I don't think you should."

Scully wrests herself from her partner. "I just want a better look. It's probably nothing." She cleans her hands with a moist towelette, reaches in and picks up the stone.

She stands there with a stunned expression on her face, frozen on the spot. Her breathing is strained and unnatural. Mulder looks from his partner to the museum employee. "Did this happen before?"

"I didn't see them up close, I couldn't tell! Should I call 911?"

They watch her for about a minute, her eyes are the only part of her that move, and they're twitching back and forth almost too rapidly to see. After another minute she comes out of it and the museum worker is able to pry the stone out of her hands with his gloved ones. Scully collapses into her partner's arms, exhausted; he scoops her up and carries her back to the motel.

"Mulder? Is really that you?"

"Yes, it's me."

Pause. "Good. I missed you." She cuddles him, pressing her cheek against his collarbone. "I missed you so much."

"Shh, it's okay, I'm taking you home."

"Thank God. I'm so tired. I'm ready."

He lays her down on the bed, unsure what to think of the way she's acting. "Scully? You all right?"

With a strangely serene expression, she gazes up at him, taking his hand with a sweet smile. "I am now. I'm wonderful. It's been so long, so very long. I'm glad it'll be over soon."

"Over? What do you mean?"

"I should've known that you'd come for me. You look great. I'm ready to come home with you."

"But wait, what do you mean? You're glad what will be over? What do you mean I came for you?"

"You've come for me, right? I'm done now, aren't I? Because I don't want to go back..." she ends with a languishing sigh.

Something attracts Scully's attention to her hands, she stares at them, opening and closing them, feeling up her arms, propping herself up to look down at herself... "Mulder, look at me! Just look at me! Look!"

"W-what am I looking at?"

On the nightstand sits her travel makeup bag, she sifts through it until she finds a mirror and stares at herself. "Mulder? How old am I?"

Still obeying her initial command to look at her, he tells her, "Thirty-six."

"Thirty-six?" she repeats in awe. "I'm 36?" She looks from the mirror back to her partner, then back again, "36. God, I'm just getting started...and I was hot!"

"How old did you think you were?

Here, she claps a hand to her forehead and thinks, he watches her count on her fingers, drawing in the air... "I don't know. But a lot older than 36." She covers her eyes, visions crowd her brain and she tries to make sense of it. Slowly, things start coming together, continuity begins taking shape...Scully breathes a sigh of relief when she gets this far along.

"Scully, you're not making any sense." He squeezes her hand, bringing a smile to her face again. "You say you missed me, do you mean you've been away?"

She nods, "It's been years; years and years."

"What's the last thing you remember? What year did you...get to?"

Pausing to think about it, she answers, "2039. Am I dead? Is this Heaven? Are the others here, too? Oh, what I wouldn't give to see you all again."

Mulder can't make any sense of what she's talking about, hoping she'll explain herself soon, "Well, far be it from me to screw up a perfectly good movie quote, but no, it's Nebraska. It's the year 2000, we're in Nebraska investigating a series of suicides. Remember?"

"Wha-at?" Scully gasps in alarm. "I have to...all that again? I can't, I just can't! Don't make me do it all again, Fox, please..." She scoots over in the bed, making room for him, with no question to her unspoken request. "Please..."

He takes off his jacket and shoes and gets into bed with his partner, letting her snuggle up to him. "So, what happens to us in the future?"

"Please stay, please stay with me, don't leave me," she begs as she holds onto him like a life preserver. He hugs her back, clueless as to what would cause his normally independent friend to plead like that. A moment later she calms down enough to answer his question, secure that he's here and he's staying. Just the knowledge that he's there with her makes her feel more like herself again. "In one of them, we were married, in others we just stayed friends. I missed this so much. The others were good at it, too, but I haven't been like this with you in so long." Both times she mentioned "the others", she fought with herself to get her memories in the right order. _Yes, there had been three...Mulder was one, he was the first one. So good to see him again._

"What do you mean, in one of them? What others?"

"I couldn't remember them all until just a few minutes ago, but since I ended up back here I can. When I was in each one, I only knew the one I was in, no memory of any others. I guess that's how I can still say I was always faithful." She cracks a naughty grin. "As far as I can tell, three times I woke up in 2014, and after getting used to the situation, in each one I was happy. It wasn't a glamorous life, but I was either a full-time doctor or teacher, I was completely out of the Bureau and all that mess, we were all safe, the Truth was uncovered...I was married. I lived each one for 25 years." She sighs sadly, looking quite weepy, stroking his cheek as though she still can't believe he's really here.

"Sounds nice. So who were the others?"

Scully shakes her head, "I don't want to tell you. I shouldn't have even told you about us. It might ruin it. Just trying to change the future or trying to bring it about can ruin things. Temporal Prime Directive. I can't interfere."

"Well, the harm's already been done, as far as we're concerned. So, tell me."

She still figures it's safer to keep him in the dark, just in case it affects their future. "There really isn't much else to tell. But we were happy. Now...now we have to go through it all over again, or even more likely is that none of those futures can come to pass. I don't know what I'll do then."

Mulder pulls her into a hug, realizing that the woman who woke up that morning 35 years old is now mentally over 100. No wonder she thought he'd "come for her". She thought he'd come to take her to Heaven. That she was done, despairing that she still had to continue living.

"Scully! That's it! You just uncovered the reason behind all those suicides! They all touched the rock, right? They were all sent into different futures or alternate universes, lived out their lives there...then when they were brought back exactly where they started...it all makes sense! We have to get back and warn them. Wait, you stay here and rest. I'll take care of it."

Frantically, Scully grabs at him, "Fox, don't! Please, darling, don't leave me. I...I..."

The urgency in her voice as well as the repeated use of his verboten first name shocks him, he obediently lays back down next to her, feeling her shiver fearfully. "Okay, okay, I'll call them instead." He senses her immediately relax, and in a few minutes she goes to sleep, still clinging to him in her dreams.

St. Louis, MO

April 5, 2014

6:45am

Scully finds herself waking up in bed in a strange room. After a brief glance at her surroundings, she turns over and discovers that she's not alone; Mulder lies next to her, asleep. She's immediately at a loss for how to react. From the looks of things, she guesses they aren't being held captive, neither of them bears any sign of injury or restraint. For a few minutes, Scully simply stares at her partner, drinking in the sight of him with a longing expression. Part of her demands answers, another part of her wants to just lay with him forever. She scoots in closer and runs her fingers through his hair, surprised to see flecks of gray.

"Mulder?" she whispers softly. "Mulder, wake up."

He grunts and pulls her close.

"Wake up, it's important!"

"It's your day off, go back to sleep."

Day off? Done playing nice, she gives him a shove and pulls the covers away. "Mulder, look at us! When the hell did this happen?"

Blinking dimly as he finally wakes up, he squints at the angry woman in bed with him. "For gods' sakes, Dana, what's gotten into you?" He pulls the blankets back irritably.

"Don't you notice anything strange this morning?" Scully asks, now hardly able to contain herself.

"Apart from you stealing the covers and waking me up before dawn?" He yawns, "No."

"So you'd say this is normal?"

"Just spell it out; will you, Dana? It's too early for 20 questions."

Lying back down in defeat, she brings her hands up to her head, muttering "Dana, Dana, since when do you call me Dana?"

"What, you want to go back to your maiden name? Fine. Can I go back to sleep now, Scully?"

_Maiden name?_ "Mulder...?"

"Whaaat?" he groans, burying his head in the pillow. "Can't this wait? Seriously, your one day this week to sleep in and you're up before the sun with inane questions."

"Just answer me one thing: why are we in bed together?"

He opens his eyes again to give her a strange look. "Probably has to do with a little something that happened 10 years ago."

"Ten years ago?"

"Mm-hmm. It's April 5th, remember?"

Now it's her turn to give him a look. "April? That's impossible, it's not April. And what do you mean about ten years ago? We didn't even know each other ten years ago."

By this time they've both caught on that there's something definitely wrong. Simultaneously, they sit up and bring their knees up. "All right, now you're scaring me."

Scully runs both hands over her forehead and through her hair. "That makes two of us. So what were you talking about that happened...whenever?"

"April 5th, 2004, I seem to remember there being a church involved and a white dress...?"

Scully's eyes go wide, "Are you telling me that we're _married!_ Hang on a second, 2004...ten years ago? That's not right, it can't be 20...14?"

"What year do you think it is?"

"2000."

They both stare at each other silently. Finally, Mulder gives a short laugh, "No wonder you were surprised. Welcome, Agent Scully, to the future." He waves his fingers at her "eerily" and gives her arm a tug, inviting her to cuddle up with him.

Scully smiles weakly, looking her husband up and down while inching closer to him, drawn to him yet almost afraid to touch him. She bites her lip to stop it from trembling as she brings her hand up to touch his face. "You're my...I'm your...Can't be...Oh!" She stops trying to talk and just presses herself into his arms. "Mulder, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything."

He holds her tightly, stroking her hair. "It's all right, we'll get this sorted out. It probably isn't permanent. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I don't know, I can't really remember what our last case was."

"Were we fighting again?"

Hesitant to reopen old wounds, she shrugs, "Kind of."

He plants a kiss on her forehead, "Well, we're not anymore. How's that?"

"But...how?"

"Well, it took us a while but we finally faced what's been blindingly obvious from the start."

"We did take the long way around, didn't we? When did you...know?"

Mulder lies back down, pulling her down with him. "I could say the cliché of 'the first time I met you,' but that wouldn't be quite right."

Still unable to take her eyes off of the man who is now her husband, she silently agrees. "I knew there was something different about you then. As much as we disagreed with each other I knew I liked you. But... love came later. It took time, and I'm glad that neither of us did anything to wreck it. We came close a few times..."

Mulder nods regretfully, turning on his side to get a good look at her. "We live here in St. Louis, you teach at the med school. You get a lot of first year classes. Keeps you young."

"And what do you do?"

"Work from home." He gives her a grin. Inside, however, his thoughts are somber. _Year_ _2000? She's forgotten everything. What can I even tell her? Where to begin?_ He decides to stick with the good news. "The two of us were central to the 2012 resistance, thanks to our background. We got enough people informed that we could fight back before They knew to expect a fight. So, now that you have your answers, can we go back to sleep for a bit? Maybe something will fall back into place. We can cover more when it's a more respectable hour."

"I'll try." She flips over onto her stomach and gives him an awkward smile. No amount of fantasies could prepare her for this reality. She examines her wedding ring, wondering which one of them picked it out. It's a simple white gold band, matching the engagement ring perfectly. It has a three stone setting of small but perfect diamonds. Practical but elegant. Scully looks over at Mulder again, who has now gone back to sleep, suppressing the urge to giggle to herself at her good fortune. The next thought she has banishes that impulse immediately: _what if this is a setup?_ Again, she glances at Mulder, turning over to get comfortable. _He wouldn't...what if it's both of us? If we're being used...kept out of the way..._

"Mulder?"

Grunt.

"Please, I'm sorry but we need to talk about this."

Grunt, whine.

Now she scoots in next to him, nearly spooning, a fact not lost on her. She whispers, barely audibly, "All you need to do is tell me if we're being detained."

"Detained?"

"Shhh!"

Mulder lowers his voice to the confidential whisper of his bedmate. "What do you mean 'detained'?"

"Isn't this all too perfect? Too easy? I...I wake up to find myself happily married to a man whom I've nearly always loved, teaching at a top-notch medical school, and now some kind of war hero to boot? It doesn't make any sense. It can't be true, there has to be something going on."

Now resigned to being awake, Mulder takes his former partner's hands. "Which one of us is the paranoid one? Listen, Dana, I wouldn't hide anything from you, not like that."

Looking at their hands, she falls deep into thought. "It's just all too good to be true. It can't be. Life doesn't hand out fairytale endings to people."

Mulder looks up at her face and sees tears falling. "God, Scully, I love you," he continues. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you. And if there was anything funny going on, I'd be the first to tell you, to put you on your guard. We're fine, we out, we're free!"

"What if you're trying to protect me? You could just be shielding me from facts that I've conveniently forgotten. How could fourteen years just vanish without a trace like that?"

He kisses her forehead, wiping her tears away. She trembles in his arms; all those years of yearning for this make the final reward almost unbearable. "I don't know how, but we'll find out. We'll get you to a doctor and get some answers. But I swear to you on all I hold dear, it's the truth. Trust me."

"I trust you. I love you." She nuzzles their foreheads together, indulging in kiss after kiss. Within a few minutes, though, the early hour starts to become more apparent to both of them and they doze off together again.

Hours later, they're woken up again by a clattering/splashing sound in the kitchen. Scully jerks awake, on full alert, while Mulder barely turns over.

"Look, there's something I didn't tell you-" he starts to confess. He's interrupted by the voice of a 12-year-old boy.

"Mom, Dad, we're out of milk!"

Mulder gets up, stretches and hands Scully her robe. She's giving him a distinctly suspicious look, walking mechanically by his side. In the kitchen, they survey the damage, a half-gallon milk carton lay on the floor, slowly chugging out its contents. Mulder picks it up, it's still about half-full, and grabs a wad of paper towels to mop it up. The boy is standing perfectly still, like if he doesn't move his parents won't see him. Scully barely looks like she has eyelids as she looks at him, then at Mulder. Doing another quick glance between them, she crosses her arms over her chest.

"You _really _must think I'm stupid!"

"Mom?"

She holds a silencing hand up in front of the boy, with a stern look. "Mulder, you lied to me. This is a setup, you know it, and you're playing some part in it."

Mulder takes her by the shoulder and guides her out of the kitchen, trying to calm her down. "I didn't lie to you, Dana."

"Don't call me that," she warns darkly.

"Fine. Scully, this is William, our son. Will, Mom's hurt herself or something, her memory's been affected, so be nice to her, all right?" The boy nods, gives his mother a wave. She still regards him coldly.

"You really must think I'm stupid," she repeats, breaking away from her husband and giving the room an impromptu search, pulling open end-table drawers and decorative boxes.

"Scully, what are you looking for?" He's reverted back to his old name for her with surprising ease, helped in not a small way by her apparent aversion to her first name at the moment.

"My gun," she answers shortly. "Where – is – my – gun?"

"Gun?" William gulps, sidling away.

"You turned it in, you don't carry one now. What did you want to do, shoot me again?"

This has their son running back to barricade himself in his room, certain that his boring old parents had finally gone insane.

"You _had _to bring that up again," she mutters irritatedly. "Look, Mulder..." she whispers lightly as looks fearfully around, taking in all the corners and crevices where she imagines her foes could be watching her from. "You told me we're not being detained."

"And I was telling the truth," he whispers back.

"You know full well I can't have children," she hisses. "What kind of a sick joke is this?"

As it had quieted it down, William peeks out of his room and tries to see if it's all clear. He creeps out, looking between the two of them. "Are you guys still fighting?"

"Yes. Yes we are," Scully reports, trying to get the boy to slip and reveal his true purpose. "What's more, we're probably getting a divorce, and it'll be _your_ fault. How do you like that?"

"Dana!" Mulder reproaches. "She's kidding, Will, none of it's true. We're not fighting, we're not getting divorced, nothing's your fault, all right?"

The boy looks between his parents, unsure who to believe. "Mom? What'd I do?"

_It isn't real,_ she tells herself, _it can't be real. He's one of Them, he's been brought in to play a role to keep me quiet._ She steels herself to go into another diatribe, but suddenly she can't bring herself to do it. _Dammit! They knew! Throw me in the room with a total stranger who calls me Mom and I'll melt. Gah..._ "Will, if that's even your real name, just what exactly are They doing this for? What's the purpose? Maybe...maybe we can arrange something. Just get me out of this."

"Dad, Mom's not making sense. What's going on?"

"That's what I want to know!" Scully cries. "Look, kid, _I_ can't have children, I've had tests done, trial runs, and they all turned up zip. Okay? I give you full points for being convincing, though. If I didn't know better, I'd have believed it myself."

Mulder tries to step in again, wishing he had a better answer prepared, "Scully, William _is _our son. This isn't a hoax or a setup, nothing's been done to us."

"Then how-?"

"He's an alien hybrid. You, me, and those guys," he points skyward.

Scully blinks, looks at her husband, then her son. "Oh. Well, that's different. Why didn't you say so?" She then heads back into the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee. The father and son sit down together, glad the crisis is averted. Scully comes out with two cups, hands one to Mulder, looking 100 percent better than she had a moment ago. "So, what else do I need to know?" She plops down next to her husband and son.

"That we're safe," Mulder tells her, kissing her forehead. They spend the rest of the day catching her up with recent history, from their son's miraculous conception and birth, to the changes in their lives afterward. William keeps a safe distance, still wary of his mother from the way she acted that morning, which is probably just as well, since Scully needs time to adjust to being somebody's mother. They regard each other shyly with Mulder to moderate. Scrap books, photo albums, and nostalgia TV shows all play a role in getting her situated.

"So what's everyone else in the family doing these days?" she poses innocently enough as the day draws to a close.

"Well, your mom's been living in a retirement home for a few years now, she's doing all right, we go see her regularly and spring her out." Scully senses him hesitating over family news, knowing something is up She presses him silently with one of her trademark "get on with it" expressions. "You've cut off ties with Bill, or at least he did with you, when we got married."

The news, while hurtful, isn't entirely surprising. She can easily imagine how it happened. "I see."

"I'm sorry."

If given the choice between her brother and Mulder, Scully sees no contest. "It's okay. Not a total loss, huh?"

Despite her light toned dismissal, Mulder knows better. She's had to watch her family dwindle around her, she didn't want to lose anyone. "I'm sorry," he tells her again, pulling her into his arms. She slips right in, the novelty of being allowed to be affectionate with him won't wear off for a long time. Scully stares at him intensely, looking at the big picture. The two of them, together, just as they should be. He kisses her forehead and she smiles serenely, knowing she'd made the right choice.

Scully wakes up. Her memory of her first day in a possible future remains close, however. She curls her arms up to her chest, holding that feeling of safety to her heart. _I've been sent back to the darkest, most dangerous part of my life. I have to do it all over again, and I don't even know how I did it before._ She dresses mechanically, smirking in reminiscence at her clothes. Mulder is already up and dressed and packing their car up to head back to DC. Unsurprisingly, she falls asleep along the way several times. When awake, though, she often fixes her sad, piercing gaze at her partner. _And that's all he is,_ she cruelly reminds herself, turning her attention yet again to her bare hands.

Mulder looks over at his partner, taking in her pensive and melancholy expression. After what she's been through, he isn't sure what he can even say or do. He reaches over and takes one of her hands, and is once again taken aback by the warm smile she gives him that immediately melts away into a frown of regret. Knowing what she had told him, what he'd been to her...

"Scully? I, uh...I'm really sorry about what happened to you. I wish I knew how to help."

"Oh, Fox..." she whispers, shaking her head. "I mean-"

"You can call me whatever you want, okay?"

"But you're not him. I have to stop this before I hurt myself. You're not him," she murmurs, facing her hands again. She looks back up, "It's so good to see you again, though. You...you have no idea." Scully flings herself back in her seat with an embarrassed grimace. "God, now I look crazy. I didn't mean to get all weird, I just...I'm sorry. I'm so tired. I'm ready, I _want_ to go on, do you understand? I'm not depressed, I'm not making a cry for help or trying to get attention...I'm just _ready_ to die!" She fixes her piercing eyes on his profile. "Please let me. Please..."

He's quiet for a while, listening to her talk this way is almost more than he can bear, "I can't do that, Scully. But I'll do what I can to help you. I can't even pretend to understand what's happened to you, but there has to be another solution than to stand by and let you kill yourself. Give it a few days, just try to get through the week and see if you feel any differently. You may have lived several lives, your mind and your memory are at least 100 years old...but physically, you're young and healthy again. Think of that. And while you're at it, spare a thought for a few people who've risked an awful lot to make sure you're healthy."

Stung, but unsurprised, by her partner's viewpoint, Scully remains silent for the remainder of the day. Night falls, and they're pulling into a town to get a room for the night. _As if I have a choice how to feel about this. Like I can just flip a switch and suddenly be happy to be back here. And unless I drop off the map completely I'll end up seeing the others, too. What will they say? I can't even imagine how they'd react. I can't help how I know I'll react to seeing them again. I bet they won't handle it any better than..._ her thoughts trail off as she gazes at Mulder. He's driving with one hand and fiddling with the radio with the other. Scully reaches out and touches him, that same sad smile crossing her face. "It's so good to see you," she whispers. "And...I'm sorry. I am grateful, you know, I know all that you and...and Skinner did to buy me more time."

The way she stumbles over their superior's name gives Mulder pause. _It's been a long time for her, she just needed a second to pull his name out of the back of her head._ But somehow he isn't altogether sure. The rest of the trip home is quiet and decidedly awkward, both of them are too embarrassed to speak. On their way to Scully's apartment, they stop at the grocery store. Unsure how well-stocked she is, and facing at least a week of 24-hour suicide watch, Mulder fills the cart with whatever he can think of. Once they're home, he makes a few calls to round up the troops.

"Your mom will come in the morning, someone will come and relieve her around 3, and so on. In the meantime, I'm going to try and see what else may have caused this. If there's some medical reason behind it all."

Scully nods, not even looking at him. "Isn't that my line?" she asks. Now as the subject of doubt, she has to rethink her past habit of always demanding that there was a logical explanation to things. She wanders around her apartment, taking in everything, amazed to find herself back here and now after such a long time away. In the next room, she overhears Mulder on the phone, it sounds like he's called up a psychiatric hotline in the yellow pages to get their take on it. As the conversation progresses, Scully gets the idea that it isn't going as he'd hoped.

"No, she's not taking anything...no, clean and sober, it wasn't drugs...No, no family history of mental illness...Well, what would you suggest? Great," he grumbles sarcastically. "I'm pretty sure this isn't her idea of a joke. Something happened to her, I'm trying to figure out what. I told you she doesn't do drugs. I can't accept that. You're saying she's either lying to me or she's stoned. Yes, vivid detail. At least 75 years, we haven't done the full math yet. Of course I'm serious! Yeah, I didn't think so. So we're down to her making it all up. Great, you've been a huge help." He hangs up the phone with a look of disgust, "While he can't make a proper diagnosis without testing you, he says there isn't any known mental disorder that would cause that many years' worth of memories to suddenly manifest. He said some applications of hypnosis or brainwashing techniques could result in false memory implantation, it wouldn't be to the degree you're talking about."

Scully shoots him an I-told-you-so expression, "So I'm either on drugs, making it all up..."

"Or telling the truth."

"Bingo." She runs her hand over her laptop, stares at the array of remote controls on the end table, unable to remember which one was for what. A stranger in her own time, she sinks into the couch, wondering how she's to be expected to adapt to this in such a short time. Once again, Mulder is back on the phone. He's clearly a man on a mission and the confirmation of her condition is all it took to set plans into action. This one sounds like it's going much better than the other one. Soon he hangs up, looking accomplished.

"I just talked to Skinner," he calls from the kitchen, "He's listed you as wounded in the line of duty, we'll see if we can get you off on temporary disability. He wants me to tell you he wishes you a full recovery. Just take your time."

This brings a soft look to her eyes, and the first real smile she's worn all day. "That's nice of him."

Now Mulder is digging around in her drawers for masking tape and a marker, at the same time he's bagging up any sharp items he might find and removing glassware from the kitchen as well. Scully looks up and sees what he's doing, surprised that he is strictly following standard suicide watch procedure. After a few trips down to his car, he joins her on the couch and labels her remotes. In that respect, their usual telepathy is right on track. Surprised by what he's sensing in her, he curls his fingers under her chin, and draws her in for a kiss. What would've ordinarily taken all of his courage to do, he does very easily since it's something they both know they want. From Scully's perspective, this is far from their first kiss, but she doesn't do anything to remind him of that. When they separate, she sees him actually blushing. "Why, Fox Mulder, I believe you're bashful."

Choosing not to comment on this he just looks at her, trying to wrap his head around all that's happened to her in such a short space of (his) time. "God, Scully, what's it like? One minute you're in 2039, the next minute you're sent back nearly 40 years to do it all over again. And this happened to you three times?"

She nods, "How am I going to do this? I'm going to need a crash history course just to be up to speed with current events. And I don't want to," she ends in a whisper, once again begging him to let her go.

"We're going to get through this. Just try to take one day at a time. For me?"

With another halfhearted nod, Scully slinks back to her bedroom and goes to sleep again. He'd done a quick review about how to conduct a suicide watch, and knows that he's not to leave her alone for any reason. Hoping she's decent, Mulder follows her into the bedroom and takes a seat near her bed.

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" Scully asks as she climbs into bed.

"Dead serious. You're not to be out of sight until we've decided it's safe."

"We?" she yawns irritably, annoyed at the attention to detail her partner has shown.

"Everyone I called in to keep an eye on you. We'll do this as long as it takes, we won't let you harm yourself."

Scully thinks about it, looking for a loophole. "Are you going to follow me into the bathroom, too?"

Knowing that the answer should be yes, but trying to give his friend a shred of dignity, Mulder caves, "Not if you don't force us to. I'm willing to give you that much privacy. Besides, I can't think of a worse way to go than drowning."

Silently, Scully agrees. Suffocation of any sort had always given her the creeps. "I take it you emptied the medicine cabinet?"

"Not even Tylenol is left," Mulder confirms. "You kind of get the idea we want you around."

Having run out of questions or arguments, Scully rolls over and goes to sleep. Taking into account how much she'd slept on the way home, Mulder is surprised that she's able to sleep so much. It certainly makes him question her previous assertion that she wasn't depressed. He knows that increased, unnatural sleeping was definitely a symptom, and is therefore worried about that possibility.

Mulder spent the night uneasily, finally falling asleep around 5, then what seemed like moments later waking up to let Scully's mother in. "Thanks for coming. I don't want to scare you, but she's in bad shape. She hasn't said much, see if you can get her to talk a bit more. Maybe just talking it out will help."

"I'll do what I can. I don't know what I can do, though."

"Just being here might help. I think she's been a bit embarrassed having me around, to be honest."

"From what I heard, the two of you have seen each other in worse shape than this. How is this situation different?" Maggie wants to know.

Mulder shifts the weight on his feet awkwardly, "Look, I didn't tell you this over the phone, but the reason she wants to die is that she's just lived several lifetimes at once. In one of them we were married. Now that she's back in the present, she's been...different. When she first got back, she thought I'd come for her, to take her to Heaven or something. She might look the same as she always did, but her memory spans well over a century now. She'll need help."

"How many of these lives has she gone through? What were they like?"

"She doesn't want to tell me anything specific in case it screws things up. But she's lived in three of them and was in a different town, a different job, with a different husband each time. She thinks they might still represent a possible future for her." As he's explaining this, he wonders how much of this Mrs. Scully will believe and how much of it she'd probably chalk up as delusions or hallucinations. "It sounds crazy, but it's true. She couldn't fake this. Listen, I have to get going, but your relief should be here this afternoon, and I'll come take over tonight again. Let me know if anything changes."

Knocking on the bedroom door before letting herself in, she calls softly "Dana, it's Mom. Fox just left for work so it's just us. How are you feeling?"

Scully rolls over to face her mother, her expression is dismal to say the least. "What did he tell you?"

Her mother sits down on the bed, smoothing her hair sympathetically. "Everything he knows, I think. Whatever it is you told him."

"And you believed it?"

Maggie doesn't answer, just smiles down at her, stroking her daughter's hair some more. "It sounds awful. I wouldn't wish what you've gone through on anybody."

"In general, or just today?" she asks, a weak attempt at humor. "God, I missed you, Mom. It's so good to have you back. Talk to me. Tell me anything." Momentarily forgetting "when" she is, she suggests "Tell me how you think I made a mistake in who I married, guilt trip me for moving so far away, I just want to hear your voice."

"Was I really that bad?"

Scully shrugs, "You weren't pleased with some of my decisions...and didn't bother keeping it a secret. I was happy, though, Mom. Not ridiculously MGM musical happy, but cozy happy. You know?"

"That's good. If I ever suggest otherwise, remind me that I told you once that that's all that's important. You're an adult, you make your own decisions and you stand by them. I remember I wasn't thrilled when you joined the FBI, but look at where that led you. I don't think I can imagine things any different. Maybe...better, safer, something where you're not in harm's way at all times...but you seem to cope with that part of the job. You would've never met Fox, and he's your best friend in the world."

"Sometimes it felt like he was my only friend. I love him," she admits with a smile. "He was the first one. It was easiest to believe it with him, my only reservation was that it seemed too perfect. I thought it was a ruse to keep me quiet and out of the way somehow. I think he was flattered by the idea."

"Who were the others?"

Scully sits up, hugging her knees, "Did he ask you to find out?"

"I'm curious about who I wouldn't have approved of."

"Sorry, not spilling. I...I don't want to wreck my chances. I'm worried I already lost my shot with Mulder, but I might still have hope with one of them."

"What makes you think you lost your chance with him? Did you two have another argument already?"

Scully shakes her head, "No, nothing like that. I just don't know what he thinks of the idea. Of me. Us. I feel like I just sort of threw it at him. I'd be surprised if it didn't scare him off."

"Dana, how do you know that any of them can happen? What if they weren't even real?"

"They _were_ real, Mom! They _are_ real! I lived it, I know it! They have to be. I don't know what I'd do otherwise."

Maggie takes her daughter's hands, "Looks like we're going to find out."

Angrily, Scully wrenches away. Having been so glad to see her mother after all this time, she's suddenly annoyed by her. _What does she know about it? What does anyone know about it?_ "Leave me alone," she mutters, laying back down. "I never asked to come back, I don't want to be here. I don't need you to tell me what I experienced wasn't real. I'm just so tired."

"Fox said you've been sleeping a lot. That isn't normal."

"Why did I have to come back _here? _It's so long ago. So long ago. I thought I was done with this part of my life, Mom. You know what you just said about wishing my life could be better, safer, away from harm? I had that. We were out, we were free, our enemies were taken care of. I had everything I needed to be happy. And then...then it was all taken away when I came back here. Home...and family...I had that, Mom! I have nothing here."

"You have me. You have Fox."

"He's not my Fox. My husband wouldn't make me stay like this, live like this. He'd let me go. He loved me. This one..."

"He loves you, too, Dana. He isn't doing this because he wants you to suffer or for selfish reasons-"

"Then why? Why would my so-called best friend do this to me? He knows I'm not crazy, he knows my reasons are sound and valid and if he were in the same place I'd let him go, too! I'm old, Mom. I don't look it, but I've lived my life and I'm ready to die. What if you kept on living and living, 100, 125, 150...and your so-called friends "kindly" kept you alive? How much would you appreciate their efforts?"

"How...how old are you, Dana?" her mother asks, almost dreading the answer.

She'd actually been pondering the mathematics and checking her work before her mother had arrived, having been curious about the same thing herself, so she's ready with an answer. "153. Three times I woke up in 2014, 50 years old, and lived in each future for 25 years. So fourteen years, regardless of whether I remember them, I can accept that they happened; three times fourteen makes forty-two, plus the seventy five years I do remember, plus 36 makes 153. I never gave the whole amount to Mulder, because he'd probably bring up that time were on that destroyer out at sea," she reveals with a smile. "Did I ever tell you about that one? Something in the water made us rapidly age, so even though at the time I'd known Mulder for a short while, we'd already grown old together. Cute, huh?"

Maggie listens, not finding the casual mention of one of her daughter's more grisly brushes with death very amusing, but forces a smile for her sake. "Cute," she lies. "Get some sleep. When you wake up I'll fix lunch. Okay?"

"Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the day is quiet, Scully spends most of it asleep. At 3 there's a knock at the door, jarring her awake. Scully faintly hears a conversation between her mother and whoever is there. The door closes. Curious, she creeps out, running a hand through her messed-up hair. She sees Skinner by the door and freezes.

"Agent Scully, I'm here for my shift." When she continues to stare at him in stunned silence, he ventures "No one told you I was coming, did they?" She shakes her head, mouth hanging agape. "You all right? Your mom said you've slept most of the day. Jet lag?"

"Time lag," she gently corrects.

He nods, from what Mulder and Mrs. Scully had told him, it matches up. Only she could've come up with such an appropriate term for it. "Time lag. Right. So it's true." She nods again. "Come on, Scully, say something, it's starting to get creepy."

All of her plans to act normal and not give herself away go right out the window at the sight of the man in her home. She takes a few shaky steps towards him, whispers, "Walter..." and throws herself in his arms in delighted relief. She heaves deep sighs that are nearly sobs, pressing her face against his crisp suit; a palpable aura of love engulfs them both.

Skinner lets her cling to him, unsure how to react. He brings his arms up around her and just holds her. He'd always been fond of her. Too fond, he had previously thought. While she hadn't always cared for him, it had been his very deals with the devil, that made him untrustworthy in her eyes, that he had done for her sake. Skinner finally loses control, and he kisses the top of her head, boldly trailing kisses down her hairline and cheek while she gasps with pleasure. "Was I...?"

Giggling nervously, she nods, "Yes, yes. You were one." She looks up at him with shining eyes, noticing how young he looks compared to how she last remembered him. She forces down her laughter when she remembers he's here as her superior, that he has no memory of their years together.

"Dana," he begins, the use of her first name betrays the significance of his visit, "I'm not going to let you die. Not after-"

Guiltily, she nods, taking his hand. "I know. I know what you did. Made a deal with the devil, made me question whose side you were really playing on, jumping through all those hoops to keep me alive. I...I'd stay, for you. With you?" She ends with the softest suggestion of a plea, giving his hand a tighter squeeze. "If...if you'd have me." Tears spill, hot and salty, she feels her face burn red. "Walter..." she whispers again as she remembers...

Iowa City, IA

March 25, 2014

7:03am

Scully slowly awakens, vaguely aware that something, or someone, is touching her. _Definitely a "someone"..._ she thinks sleepily, not feeling particularly alarmed somehow. She feels a pair of male hands creep along her back, and massaging her shoulders. Despite the oddness of the situation, she can't help letting an appreciative sigh cross her lips. It's followed, however, by realization: she flips over onto her back so suddenly she nearly decks whoever is touching her. "Where am I? Who's there? What's going on?"

"Morning," Skinner remarks, still frozen in place in alarm.

She stares up at him, "Sir? What...what are you doing...here?" Looking down at herself, she pulls the covers up with a shrill gasp. "I'm naked!"

"And that's a bad thing?" When she still stares at him fearfully, he adds, "Happy anniversary, pet."

_Anniversary? Pet?_ "Wh-what? What did we do? Oh, god, I went to bed with you! Ugh, I'm one of _those_ people! I went to bed with my freaking _boss! _How drunk did I get at that party?"

"What party?"

"You know, the cast party, that dumb Lazarus Bowl movie they did about us. We were all invited along after the premier."

"That's the last thing you remember?"

Trying desperately to cover herself, she answers "Yeah, why? Am I missing something? I'd better be, from the looks of things."

Skinner looks at her like she's lost her mind, "You're definitely missing something. A lot of somethings, actually. Just sit tight, this might help explain. Just...listen to me, Dana. You're all right, you're perfectly safe here. Everything is going to be fine. Understand?" He leaves the room, Scully watches after him, mystified. She's never heard him speak in such a tone to her before; it isn't his usual brusque bark or his calmer, more paternal air, it's...different. She hears him rummaging around in the next room for a minute before he returns. He makes a quick detour to the master bath and comes out with her robe, which she gratefully accepts and slips into. He hands her a flat rectangular object that she examines. It's a DVD of "that dumb Lazarus Bowl movie", "ominously" marked as the 13th Anniversary Edition. She stares at it. "13th anniversary edition...but they just showed it last night. What's this, anyway? The soundtrack?" She's popped open the case and examines the disc.

"It's the movie, on the disc. That party you're talking about was 14 years ago. The studio sent us the special edition just a few months ago. And if you're not kidding around and that really is the last thing you remember, it looks like you have a serious gap in your memory." Skinner can't take his eyes off her, looking mournfully at what's left of his wife. He reaches out to brush her hair but she pulls away abruptly, clearly defining their boundaries. Look, but don't touch.

With a humorless chuckle, she scoffs "And what, we live together in the future?" The distaste she's hoping to convey falls rather flat, as she wonders if there was anything significant between them. Still not sure how much of this she believes, she continues questioning him. "And...where are we?" 

"Iowa City."

She laughs outright at this, "Iowa? What's in Iowa?"

"Good hospital. You work in pediatrics."

"Kids? Live kids? Nice change," she mutters to herself.

"You're also a regular guest-lecturer at the college. You have a class that meets one night a week. One of the 'freshman flunk-out' classes. Separating tomorrow's finest from kids who just want to play doctor. You really enjoy it. You're serious...you don't remember any of this."

"So, wait...what...what are you doing here?"

Skinner sits down next to her with a sigh, "Pet..." he reaches for her hands, but she scoots away, scrunching herself up as small as possible to avoid his touch.

Scully is pretty sure what he's about to tell her, but doesn't want to believe it. She never thought she'd be the type of person to allow diminutive nicknames, but the way he says it isn't condescending. Cautiously, she looks at her hands. Sure enough, her left ring finger bears a small princess-cut diamond and simple gold band. She looks back up at him and shakes her head, her mouth agape. With one finger, he pushes her mouth shut and kisses her forehead, she's too stunned to protest.

"When?"

"Well, funny you mentioned the movie about us...because I kind of think of that as when our relationship changed. We saw each other at the party, I apologized for yelling at you earlier-"

"I remember that," Scully recalls with a smirk. It's not often she gets to hear a superior admit that he's wrong. Particularly this one.

"And then you danced with me...and you smiled, really smiled, and it just made the whole world seem right."

Scully blushes, she remembers that, too. She'd had a few glasses of chardonnay and was feeling friendly to everybody. Suddenly fate thrusts her into the arms of "Associate Producer" Skinner. She never would've dared approach him like that sober. But she'd felt alive and healthy, and _very_ female...

"But we didn't sleep together that night?"

"No." Skinner answers shortly. "No. But it did start the ball rolling. That's all we needed, really, a shift in perspective. You must be scared to death. What happened to you?"

Mentally breathing a sigh of relief that she hadn't disgraced herself in a fit of drunken debauchery, she stretches out more comfortably as she lies back in bed. "I don't feel so great, my head hurts."

"Maybe you hit it against the headboard last night." he suggests offhandedly. When he sees her horrified expression at the suggestion that they'd had wild anniversary sex the night before, he amends it, "Could be related to your memory lapse. Listen, you hop in the shower and I'll start breakfast. I don't care if you don't remember our anniversary; I've been planning this for weeks."

Scully nods and heads for the master bath. Still not sure what to think of her lovesick former boss, she surveys her surroundings. Everything looks normal, she even sees she hasn't changed her brand of shampoo in 14 years. Then she looks in the mirror.

Skinner is in the kitchen, heating up a saute pan when he hears her shriek. He runs back and knocks on the bathroom door. "All right in there?"

"F-fine!" Scully calls, still staring at her 50-year-old self. She's looked worse, admittedly, but she's still taken aback at the cinnamon-sugar look her hair has taken on. "Guess I'm all natural," she mutters, slipping out of the robe and stepping into the shower. Ten minutes under the hot massage shower head is nearly enough to make her forget the troubles of the morning, she steps out feeling much more ready to face this strange new world.

Her timing is impeccable, she discovers, as Skinner hands her a coffee cup and steers her towards the breakfast nook.

"Two Truvia, just how you like it," he tells her when he sees her scan the area for her precious sweetener packets. "That's future-talk for Sweet-n-Low"

She sips, assesses, and nods appreciatively. In a strange way, she's touched that he knows how she takes her coffee. Just as they're sitting down, the doorbell rings. Together, they go to the door to answer it.

"Delivery for Mrs. Skinner." A man holds out a vase of roses and daisies. Scully blanches at being addressed with a married name, her husband accepts the delivery. The delivery man touches his cap to them. "Mazel tov."

Skinner sets the flowers on the table, helps her sit down and sets a plate in front of her. "Turkey sausage crepes with cranberry chutney. I got the recipe from a video online and practiced while you were at work." He looks very proud of himself. He's even garnished the dishes with orange zest.

"Wow," she softly exclaimed. "And I was impressed if Mulder could make toast." They eat in relative silence, Scully feeling incredibly awkward about sharing breakfast with her superior. She's certainly at a loss for conversation. "Sir...what are we doing here?"

"I told you, you work at the U of I hospital."

"No, that's not what I meant. What are...why are we...married?"

Skinner looks up at her. She's sipping her coffee and fixing him with a steady gaze. One that he'd learned in the past meant she means business. "Why do you think we're married?"

Now she'd had a whole ten minutes in the shower to come up with a theory that makes sense, and she's rather pleased that she can lay it out in front of him so fast. "You did it to protect me. We're obviously in hiding, you're shielding me from my enemies with your name. As long as they're looking for Dana Scully, they won't think to hunt down Dana Skinner."

"Is that what you really believe?" She shrugs coolly. "Look at your hands."

"I already have, thanks."

"I mean _really_ look at them."

With a loud clunk, she sets her coffee cup down and examines her fingers incredulously. What she sees this time gives her pause. What she'd originally mistaken for a plain gold band...she twists it around... "Sir...this...This is a claddagh"

Nodding pointedly, Skinner asks, "Do you recognize what the symbols mean?"

"Of course I do, I'm Irish. The hands represent friendship, the heart love, the crown loyalty...but..."

"Do you think I would've given that to you if I hadn't meant it? Would you have accepted it if you hadn't felt the same way? Think."

As white as she'd gone when addressed as Mrs. Skinner, she feels her face grow warm and pink. She draws her eyes up from the ring on her finger and stares across the table at her husband. "You...you mean you...we really...?" She gulps, forces herself to plunge ahead. "You love me?" she asks.

Skinner stands and starts cleaning up, talking half to himself,"We need to figure out what's happened to you. If you were injured somehow during the night, or what..." He looks back at his wife, at her puzzled yet endearing expression. She genuinely wants to know, _has _to know. "Of course I love you, pet. Everything I did, even when you hated me, it was all for you, to save you. Please believe me."

She nods automatically, gazing at him with shuddering breaths. Suddenly she slips sideways in her seat in a dead faint. Skinner leaps forward and catches her before she hits the floor. He's hit with a sense of deja vu, that he's caught her like this before. She lies limply in his arms as he carries her back to the bedroom. He tucks her back into bed and gently pats her face. He brushes her hair back and finds a bruise just above her forehead; at least that answers that. "Sorry, pet, we'll have to be more gentle next time." he mutters, kissing her injury.

A minute passes, and she starts coming around. She squints up at him with a chuckle, "Sir, is that you?"

"Uh, yeah."

"What happened?"

"You fainted, I brought you back here and put you to bed."

"Oh. I just had the strangest dream. We were in the future, and we were married," she laughs out loud at the thought. "And...and it all kind of made sense, you know? I mean, we could've had a pet ostrich and it would've made sense, that's just how dreams work, but...but it was nice...I was being so mean to you but it was nice. I think...I was just afraid of it getting taken away...that future looked so good, though."

"Dana, that wasn't a dream. You're here, with me, and everything that you think you dreamed up this morning really happened. It's true." He sits next to her and takes her hands, this time she doesn't resist.

"I never thought I'd get married," she admits. "I didn't think it was 'for me'. I...I don't know how to be her, that woman you love. I thought you hated me. For the longest time I was sure that you were working for Them."

"I never hated you. I was frustrated by you, intrigued, but...your safety was always important to me."

Scully nods, absorbing this sweet, simple confession. "Sir, you...you call me 'pet'...?"

"It's an old habit. I'll stop if it's making you uncomfortable. And you can quit saluting me any time. We usually only use our work names if we're-" he catches himself, embarrassedly clearing his throat.

With her patented raised eyebrow, Scully realizes what he stopped himself from alluding to. Work-related bedroom role-playing. "So, like, you page me to your office for a 'dressing down'?" She can't keep a straight face at the suggestion.

"Your favorite one is where we wake up locked up together," he admits.

"Oh god, I'm married to my boss and we do the kinky stuff," she mutters shamefully, cupping her hands over her face.

Already recognizing their new boundaries, he holds back from touching her the way he ordinarily would have. "There's nothing wrong with it. We're adults, we're married, if we want to spice things up with occupational humor..." Even Scully has to laugh at the picture he's painting. She'd had her share of work-related dreams about Assistant Director Skinner, particularly ones involving being spread over his desk for a 'disciplinary session'. "It took us a while to work up to that, though. Even when we were dating we were both on the shy side. We'd both been disappointed too many times, I don't think either of us was ready to jump into a physical relationship."

"But once we started we got along like a house on fire, huh?" Scully suggests, surprising herself at her boldness. "Sorry, sir, I still can't just stop thinking of you as...what you've always been. I...believe what you told me, I can accept that it's true, but I can't _be _her. If I ever can remains to be seen."

"I understand. Another thing that kind of held us back was...well, I shouldn't even be saying this, but it was your mother."

"My mother?"

Fidgeting nervously, as though mentioning Mrs. Scully will make her appear, "Let's just say she doesn't quite approve of us. She thought it was silly when we first started seeing each other, to an outside observer one can see her point. Hell, we used to play that game enough; go out to some fancy restaurant on a date and watch people react to us as a couple. To this day most people who see us together, apart from those we know, probably think I'm your father."

"You kind of were," Scully admits. "But is that really the only reason my mom's had all these years? Surely she can come up with something better than an age gap."

"Generation gap," Skinner corrects her.

Unsure why she's defending them as a couple, she plunges ahead, "But she sees that we're happy...We _are_ happy, aren't we?"

"Oh yes," Skinner takes her hand, "Ecstatic." Scully looks at their clasped hands, as though it's triggering a memory that won't quite form. She's certain, however, that he's done this before, that he's touched and gentled her, made her laugh and made her scream. That simple touch awakens strange sensations... "Dana? You all right?"

She nods slowly, "Yes...I just..." she looks between his face and their hands, "It's just...I think I...I think I remember something."

This gets Skinner's undivided attention. He scoots up as near to her as he dares, surprised that she doesn't flinch away this time. "What? What do you remember?"

With a pained expression, she struggles with the idea, the notion that should have ordinarily been easily contradicted. Knowing that her admission is going to change everything she's ever known, she wishes she could avoid saying it, but she feels irresistibly compelled, "I remember loving you." Equal shares of terror and relief flood through her. To remember the feeling, but to barely remember the man; inseparable twin emotions, hope and fear, fight within her. Without knowing when she started, Scully finds herself sobbing hard, as though in grief. Skinner gathers her into his arms, she slips in without a fight and lets him rub her back consolingly.

"I don't want it to all be a lie," she whispers. "But it was a beautiful lie, if it is."

"Shh, shh. It's not a lie. I promise. Look, Dana, do you know what time it is?"

She sniffs, looks around for a clock, "A little after 9."

He stiffens, suddenly agitated. "Oh, shit. She'll be here any minute."

"Who?"

"What am I going to tell her? How can I explain this?"

Now very suspicious, Scully pushes herself out of her husband's arms. "Who? Explain what?"

There's the sound of an approaching car, a door slams, feet going up the path, and the door handle turning. Both of them leap up off the bed and run out to the front door.

"Hi Mommy, hi Daddy, I made you this!" A six year old girl of Asian descent holds up a butterfly cage made of Popsicle sticks.

Passing a significant look with his wife, Skinner scoops up the girl and carries her to the couch. "That's very nice, Hotaru. Did you have fun at your Wilderness Girl sleepover?"

Hotaru nods, Skinner beckons to Scully to come closer. She stares at the girl like she's never seen such a thing as a child.

"Hotaru, there's something we have to tell you. When you were away, Mommy had an accident and hurt herself. She's having trouble remembering things. Can you be extra good for her while she gets better?"

She doesn't answer, but holds up her crafts project for her mother to inspect. "I made this for you, Mommy. We can catch butterflies in it. They're pretty." She turns to her father and asks, "Is Mommy going to die?"

"No! No, of course Mommy's not going to die. She bumped her head so she's forgotten some things, but she'll be okay. She just needs you to be her special helper until she's well again."

Scully feels like she should add her assurances, too. Of course the girl would be worried about that, she wonders briefly if her birth parents are alive or dead. "I'll be fine, Hotaru. Maybe you can help me."

"Really?"

"Can you tell me...when you came to live with me and Daddy?"

"After the earthquake. I don't remember it, though. That's what they said happened, and I saw pictures."

"About 3 years ago, whole villages in Japan were just swept away. They're still trying to clean up the damage," Skinner puts in. Scully looks sadly at the girl between them and pulls her close.

Scully isn't surprised that Hotaru managed to block out her first years, with such trauma in her past. She and Skinner are the only parents the girl can remember. Perhaps that's for the best. "I always wanted a little girl," she tells her. "Come on, let's find a place to keep your bug-catcher. I used to have these when I was your age, but I never made one myself." She allows herself to be led by the hand into the back yard.

After a few hours of family time, in which Scully starts to acclimatize to her new family, Skinner taps her on the shoulder. "I just remembered, you said yesterday that you had left your lecture notes in your office. You'd wanted to go over them before class. And now more than ever you could use a brush-up."

"Okay. Do you know where my office is?"

"Yeah, I do. Let's go." He throws a few things in her purse and hands it to her.

After getting Hotaru buckled into the back seat of her Prius, they drive out to campus. Scully watches, so she'll remember the way next time.

"The hospital is out that way. Here we are." They get out of the car and walk along the path to the right building. From somewhere nearby, someone calls out.

"Doctor? Doctor Skinner! Oh dammit, the memo said you weren't on campus today, I didn't think we had lecture!"

Skinner stands ready to intervene if necessary, to run interference for Scully to help her escape. Luckily, her improvisation skills haven't waned; for all appearances, she's the Doctor Skinner this student is looking for. For the second time that day, Scully was faced with responding to her married name. _This is going to take some getting used to._ "It's all right, there wasn't class today. I just forgot something in my office and was just dropping in to pick it up. You didn't miss anything."

"Oh good!" The frantic student exclaims. "Hey, while you're here, can you look at my paper? I might need to ask for an extension. Do you have someplace I can stick this?" He holds up a flash drive, which Scully doesn't recognize.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Look, I know you don't give extensions...but please..."

Luckily, her husband jumps in to help, pulling her phone out of her purse and tapping the screen on. The student plugs his flash drive into the port and the screen lights up with his paper. Giving it a brief scan, Scully asks, "How long is it?"

"28 pages."

"And the requirement?"

"40"

"And you think I didn't give you enough time on this, is that right?"

"Oh, no, Doctor! I...I was just..."

"You obviously think so, or you wouldn't ask me to extend the due date. What day is it today?"

"Tuesday."

"And it's due on...?"

"This Friday."

"And you're telling me that you can't finish this in the next three days? When I was in med school I cranked out a 50 page paper in that long! Don't ask me again, the answer's no. Get back to your dorm and get to work! Buy a coffee maker for god's sake! Today is barely half-over! You could finish it by nightfall if you got cracking!" She imperiously hands her phone to Skinner so he can properly eject and unplug the device without wrecking it, hands the flash drive back to the student and sends him on his way with a harrumph of "Slackers!" for his trouble. Once the student is gone, she brings a hand to her forehead as her husband smirks at her.

"What?"

Skinner puts a hand on her shoulder, steering her in the right direction. "You know, that scene was strikingly familiar. Want to know the only difference?"

Massaging the throbbing nerve in her head, she answers, "I can't wait to hear it."

"You were me."

She shoots him a look originally meant to impale, then softens with a playful swat. Together, the three of them go get her notes and head home.

Later that night when they put Hotaru to bed, they sit together on the couch, able to face the problem at hand for the first time since that morning. Skinner pours them each a glass of scotch and strokes her arm. Scully takes a sip of the warming amber liquid, looks at him curiously with a calculating expression. She drops her gaze shyly, a smile tugging at her lips. She never would've imagined this, but now that she's here, it seems like something she can live with. Maybe more than just "live with"...

"How are you feeling, pet—Dana?"

"Fine...Walter," she can't help but giggle a little at calling him by his first name. "It's still strange, but...I can do this." She takes another sip and puts her hand over his and gives it a pat. She still feels as awkward as a teenager on her first date, and it definitely shows, but she's determined to make the best of things. "I was thinking, I'm glad it was you. I mean...I'd have had a harder time accepting it if I'd woken up married to a total stranger. At least I know you, some. It'll take time, but I think we can do this."

"Good, I'm glad. I was afraid you'd ask to leave, get a divorce...I didn't want to go through that again."

Scully is surprised, she never took his previous marriage into consideration in the time they worked together. She had been aware that he'd been going through a drawn-out divorce, but never really gave it much thought, never considered his pain. They both take another drink, neither of them knows how to continue this topic. "I'll stay," she tells him.

He turns to her and places a soft kiss on her forehead, murmuring "You are so precious to me."

The cozy atmosphere, in addition to the alcohol, helps Scully accept his sudden romantic overture. What she'd ordinarily have forbidden, she finds herself welcoming. While she doesn't return his affection in equal measure, she feels certain that, properly nurtured, her feelings towards her former superior could grow into something more. If he'd give her the needed time.

The next day, Scully's been trying to get caught up with the "future" at large. Skinner is in town shopping, Hotaru is at school, leaving Scully alone in the house for the first time since her accident. As she wanders the unfamiliar rooms, she's hit with a sense of melancholy, fully realizing the implications of her condition. A lot has changed, it's a lot to take in. Photo albums, online slide-shows, back issues of magazines...she'd made use of anything that could give her information about the time she's living in and the years she's forgotten. She pores over their wedding album. Despite it being a small party, they'd made sure it was a proper wedding and not a fly-by-night casual affair. She can't get over how happy she looks, even in the candid shots. There's one in particular of her gazing across the church at her groom, with soft fondness shining in her eyes. Bill is noticeably absent from any pictures, Scully notes without surprise, making her wonder if she had any family left, how badly she and her mother have fallen out. From what Skinner had said earlier, she still calls, so at least they're on speaking terms. Chalking it up to her being a typical "meddling mother-in-law", Scully hopes for the best, determined to talk to her later. Looking at more photos, she sees one of Mulder giving her away. Then, of course, common sense kicks in. Skinner had taught her to use her new phone, at least for the basic purposes of making calls, all the other fancy bells and whistles can wait. She touches the screen a few times and waits.

"Mulder, it's me," she says out of habit, then suddenly worrying that they'd somehow fallen out over the years.

"Scully, hi!" he answers.

"Look, this might sound strange, but is it okay that I called? Are we okay?"

Now Mulder sounds worried, this doesn't sound good. "Yeah, we're fine, totally fine. Your card's in the mail, sorry it's late. Stuff came up."

"No, that's fine. I just..." she trails off, _he thought I was mad that his card was late, that's all_ she sighs in relief. "Look, something strange happened to me yesterday, it's _still _happening, to be honest...probably will for a long time. I'm not sure."

"What is it? Something from our neck of the woods?"

Soothed by the sound of his voice as well as the familiar subject-matter, she actually laughs, "No, nothing that...interesting. I hit my head the other night, and the last thing I can remember is June of 2000."

"You and Skinner playing rough?" Mulder teases.

"That's probably it," she quips in return. "So, yeah...anything I should know about? I've done a bit of research on the larger issues; anything closer to home?"

"Well, we left the FBI rather...let's say dramatically. I don't know if Skinner told you anything about that..."

"No, he didn't."

Mulder sighs, wondering how to tell her. "Want the long version or the short version?"

"The short version will be fine, I'm getting a headache already," Scully replies with a short moan.

"Well, for Skinner it was blackmail. He was 'encouraged' to retire. And you were the bait. Actually, I don't think you ever knew that part. You didn't even realize they had you in their sights. You and Skinner had been engaged for a while, but kept it low-key...somehow the wrong people found out and realized Skinner's weakness. They'd had enough of him by then, he'd outlived his usefulness and rather than eliminate someone that high-profile they figured they'd just get you both out of the way as tidily as possible. Later, you and I fled. A few years and changed addresses later, you and Skin-man were married."

"Years?" Scully repeats. "What, you and I were on the run together for years and Ski—Walt—ugh, whoever! He never suspected that we...?"

Mulder scoffs, "That we what? We never did anything. He trusted us. It was the only way to be safe until the dust settled. You kept in touch regularly, it wasn't great but you made it look like it was enough. Once it did, things were pretty normal. By our standards, anyway."

Scully sits back down, suddenly hit with loneliness for her husband. "And we're still friends?" she ventures.

"Of course. Why wouldn't we be?"

"I don't know, it seems my relationship with...him was the breaking point for a few...others." Scully stumbles over what to call her husband, neither of his names sound right for her to say.

"Your mom. Yeah, she didn't take it too well. I think she kinda had a thing for him, then to have you run off with him...she's still not happy, but I think she's getting over it. Besides, you already beat the odds. She gave it a year. You've had 6."

Scully smiles, adding that to what she knows about her time with her husband. Six years, yesterday.

There's a heavy silence, Mulder correctly interprets it, that Scully needs his blessing. "He's been good to you. I think you've been good for each other. Look, I can't pretend I never thought of the two of us, but figuring what we were like together, it wouldn't have flown. It would've been fun for a while, but once reality kicked in and the honeymoon was over, it would be a lot like that undercover mission we had. Remember that one?"

"I do remember that one, and...I think you're right," she admits. Then she hears a car pull up and a minute later Skinner comes in the house. He puts groceries away and waves to his wife. Scully waves back, points to the phone and holds up a finger. "Look, he's just gotten home, and I have class in about an hour. I have to get ready."

"You're still planning to give a lecture...the way you are?" Mulder asks, surprised. He knows she's no stranger to winging it, but this would be giving it a whole new meaning.

"How hard can it be? I have the notes right here. I've been doing some background reading to familiarize myself, I should be fine."

"Good luck!"

"Bye."

Scully hangs up and strolls over to Skinner, still trying to keep a safe distance. She gives him a tight smile and looks around just behind him. "Have a good day out?"

"Yeah, got a lot done. So you're planning on going to class? Think you'll be okay?"

Scully shrugs, "If I start feeling like I'm in trouble, I'll just do what I always did with you. Make something up and pray they buy it." They share a laugh over this, Skinner comes around the island and takes her into his arms. He bends down to kiss her but she dodges it with the pretense of cuddling into his chest. A little hurt by this, he lets it slide for now, giving her back a pat and letting her go change for work.

XXX

"...this should conclude the distinction between voluntary and involuntary nerve impulses. Any questions before we move on? Yes?"

A young woman puts her hand down and leans forward to be heard better. "Personal question, Dr. Skinner?"

Scully flinches, wondering if this was a normal part of lecture. "All right, let's hear it."

"Is everything all right at home?"

"Why do you ask?"

The girl hesitates, then plunges ahead, "You haven't mentioned your husband once."

_Shit_ "All right, class, come down, get close where I can see you and hear you. The rest of this period will be a little different. Anyone particularly interested in the human brain in the audience today?" Two students raise their hands and come closer. "All right, turn into a doctor and have a look at this." She pushes her hair back, showing the very large purple bruise just below the crown of her head. A few students let out startled gasps. "I woke up with this yesterday, and the last I remember was when most of you were in 2nd grade."

"Partial amnesia?"

Hating that word, its connotations are more at home on kitschy TV shows than medicine. "Yes, everything after the turn of the century is a total blank. This still doesn't get anyone an extension on that assignment that's due on Friday!" She gives the class a hard look. Then she softens, "Anything anyone can tell me would be extremely useful. I've done my own research, it's been utterly unhelpful. The most anything says is a reminder of how subjective the condition is and it's impossible to say when or how it will be cured."

"That's all I could tell you, too, Doctor," one of the students admits. She faces him with a defeated nod, then pauses, startled by his vivid round blue eyes. "This might sound strange, but is your family from here...originally?" He's certainly the youngest med student she's ever seen, he looks like he should still be in high school. The words 'child prodigy' flit through her head.

"No, Doctor, we're from back East, actually. My mom and I moved here so I could get an in-state discount." Something about his posture, his carriage tells her that they'd been introduced previously and he's trying to be polite.

"Uh huh. Look, I get the feeling that we know each other."

The student looks uncomfortable, "Yeah, we do. You...you knew my dad. Better than I did, actually. He died when I was a baby."

"Byers..." she breathes, now recognizing those eyes from another face, another time. "Was your father John Byers?"

"Yes, ma'am. We...covered this before, but..." he looks around him, fully conscious of how public they are. He'd rather not discuss family business with his entire class present.

_Dead...Byers is dead. _Scully grasps the podium to steady herself from the shock. "Your father was a fine, brave man. I hope your mother let you know that."

"She did, Doctor," he mutters.

The rest of the class takes the form of brief reintroductions, and a review of how she normally conducts lecture. According to her students, she typically uses Skinner as an example, whether it's necessarily pertinent or not. Luckily the remainder of the class doesn't contain any more dramatic revelations, and by the end of it, Scully is feeling more at home. _I can do this!_

Two days later, long after Skinner had gone to bed, Scully sits up late at night going through her lecture notes for next week. Some hunting around the house unearthed materials pertinent to work as well. It's 3am when she feels hands on her shoulders and is surprised by a quick peck on the cheek. She whips around and sees Skinner standing behind her.

"It's late. Come to bed," he tells her.

Drawing herself up and slightly away from him, Scully asks, "How am I going to relearn all of this?" she gestures to her work materials. Teaching looks like a breeze by comparison.

"You will. You'd just worked 12 days in a row when you had your accident, you get a nice long weekend to recuperate. That'll be enough to get a good start, anyway. You've made excellent progress already. Now come to bed."

Scully lifts up her glasses and rubs her eyes, unable to deny being sleepy. It had been a long day. "Coming, sir," she mumbles, then scowls at herself for the slip. "I'm sorry, it's going to take a while to get used to being..."

Now Skinner is helping her stand up, with a guiding arm around her shoulders. "Time for bed, Agent Scully." He marks her place in her notes and nudges them into a tidier pile as they leave the living room. Back in their bedroom, Skinner goes into her dresser and finds her a nightgown to change into. Scully chooses to change in the master bathroom for some measure of privacy, it'll definitely be a while before she's comfortable with showing her naked body to her former superior, regardless of whether it's nothing he hasn't seen before. In the middle of slipping the nightgown over her head, she pauses to examine herself in the mirror again, noting small scars she acquired over the course of her life. She's glad to see there aren't many new ones. _Not too bad for fifty,_ she tells herself. Dressed for bed, Scully leaves the bathroom and into the bedroom where her husbandawaits. She lies down in bed, keeping all of herself on "her" side of the bed. Skinner, by force of habit, reaches to pull her close and she springs away skittishly.

"Stop that!" she hisses.

"I thought you liked it when I did it before."

It's true, she'd let him hold her earlier, but she's beginning to regret it. _Give him an inch..._ "I know, I know, just...don't. Please. I can't."

Skinner sits up and turns his lamp on, "No one's forcing you to do anything you don't want to do."

"For god's sake, sir, don't patronize me!" Scully growls as she hops right back up out of bed, forgetting there's a child sleeping in the next room. "I'm not talking about _that, _I mean I don't want to do _anything_. No kissing, cuddling, any of that! Ugh!" She shudders involuntarily.

Skinner wilts before her eyes, wholly hurt. "I didn't know you felt that way. I thought we had something."

Regretting her temper, she sits back down on the bed, trying to work it out in her head. "I didn't mean it to come out like that. I just...it feels like we're moving awfully fast, and I'm still a little freaked out."

"Mommy, you're scared?" a small voice comes from the doorway. "Is Daddy being bad?"

Exchanging a look with Skinner, Scully goes and kneels down next to her daughter. "No, Daddy isn't being bad, we're not fighting. Why don't you go back to sleep, huh?" When Hotaru doesn't move, but looks uncertainly between her parents, sensing that something is wrong, Skinner pats the bed and pulls her up onto it.

"Come on, kiddo, we should probably talk about this," he begins. "Mommy just doesn't want to get any of my boy-germs."

While his remark was light-hearted enough, Scully rolls her eyes in annoyance, wishing he would stop playing down the situation. "You know that's not what it is, _Daddy_."

"I'm trying to explain so she'll understand," he replies, both adults look like they're losing patience with each other.

"She's not stupid," she reminds him. Then she turns back to Hotaru, "You know how we told you before that I'd forgotten some things? I forgot a lot about Daddy and now I'm kind of shy around him. Like when you first started school and had to meet a bunch of new people. Does that make sense?" The girl nods a little. "I'm not trying to be mean, but it probably sounds like it to him. I need to get to know him again, but it might take a while."

"Is he like a stranger?" Hotaru asks. She'd learned in school not to talk to strangers, because they might not be nice people.

"Kind of, but not really. I still _know_ him, just not the same way. A long time ago, before you were even born, he used to be my boss. You know what that is?" Hotaru nods, looking like she's keeping up. "It was kind of like getting sent to the principal's office. Back then, I was kind of scared of him at first."

"Daddy isn't scary!" the girl insists.

"I know that, he's nice, we just need to make friends again." She looks meaningfully at Skinner, who's been listening to all of this, "I'd really like to make friends again." She puts a hand over his, giving him a small smile before ducking her head shyly. He can just detect a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

"You're serious," he remarks in an undertone, looking at their hands. She nods, gives his hand a squeeze and makes herself look at him again.

"You'll make friends again, don't be sad," their daughter insists, climbing into her dad's lap.

"Mommy might be a little different for a while, but we'll be okay," Skinner assures her. "I won't be too scary," he says to Scully. She nods, but still looks kind of hesitant. She hopes that he doesn't expect her to change overnight or even within the next several days. This could take months to fully adjust. Hotaru is soothed for now, and goes back to bed. Once she's gone, Scully looks over at her husband with a headshake and a sigh, brings her hands up through her hair and leans forward against her raised knees. Skinner tries to rub her shoulders, knowing how stressful the day has been, but she shrugs him away.

"I'm sorry," she says, sounding weary and remorseful. Knowing that he's only treated her with compassion and love makes her feel even worse. "Walter..." she whispers, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's going to be okay. We'll take it slow. Like when we were dating. It didn't happen overnight."

"Do you remember our first date?" Scully asks.

Skinner looks embarrassed, "Yeah, I do," he admits with a smile. "It was one of the books, that's for sure."

"Was it that bad?"

"Well, it had been a long time for both of us, so neither of us was very well-equipped...you didn't even realize we were on a date until about 20 minutes in."

Scully raises an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Well, I could've handled it better. It happened at work, you were in my office handing in a report, and I stopped you on the way out the door. I asked...I _told _you to join me for dinner that night, that we had things to discuss."

Laughing, Scully can easily imagine it playing out that way. "_That's_ how you asked me out? No wonder..."

"It gets better. When you still thought it was some kind of work-related meeting, you were so wound up, you wouldn't order anything, you just sat there. I tried to lead you out with a little small-talk, but you'd just answer in as few words as possible, like you were waiting for me to cut to the chase. I swear, the looks we were getting... Then you asked me what we were doing out there, and of course it came out that this was my idea of a date. You should've seen the look on your face when you realized what we were doing. But it actually helped you loosen up a bit. I think—I know—you were surprised, but I think you were pleased. I certainly was pleased once you started having a good time. I've always cared for you, and I finally had gotten up the courage to do something about it. It took me long enough."

"We could try taking things one step at a time. It's still a lot to get used to at once. I'm just...not used to good things happening, I guess. We're safe, healthy, happy...I haven't had that in a long time. It's nice."

"Think you could get used to this?"

"I'll sleep on it," she sighs, laying back down and pulling up the covers. Skinner does the same, kissing her hand, keeping with what she's comfortable with. Scully relaxes and scoots closer to him, still hand in hand.

Months pass, and while they both make strides to adjust to the situation and to each other, their relationship still isn't back to normal. To "lighten the load", as best she can, Scully has moved her claddagh to her right hand, signifying that she's unmarried but in a relationship. Skinner never brings it up, but it hasn't escaped his attention. For the past six years, Skinner had been accustomed to a much more familiar and relaxed wife, so despite what he knows about her condition, her perceived aloofness grates on him, giving him the feeling that she mustn't be able to stand prolonged contact with him. In reality, she's taking things at a speed that feels comfortable to her, and in Scully's mind, she's grown much closer to him than she ordinarily would have been. The end result is frustration on both their parts. He thinks she doesn't like him anymore, she thinks he doesn't appreciate her feelings, feelings she's never been very good at demonstrating. One night, Scully lays awake, thinking about what must be done. She nudges him awake.

"Walter..."

"Hmm?"

"Wake up, we need to talk about this. Before I lose my nerve."

"All right. What are you thinking?"

Scully draws a slow, steadying breath, clasping her hands together. "We've made some ground...but I know it's not a lot...and I know that whatever happens...that fundamentally I am not the woman you married. I'm-I'm not even the woman you dated. So, I think if you look at it that way, I have every right and reason to ask you-"

Skinner cuts her off, "Don't! Dana, please don't. Don't ask me for a divorce. I know things haven't been perfect, but we're making some ground, it'll sort itself out soon, just give it time."

"Walter..." she slips her claddagh off her finger and holds it out to him. "Will you marry me?"

Eyes flicking rapidly between the ring and his wife, he snatches it out of her grasp and puts it, heart facing down, on her left hand. "Dana...pet...Sorry," he catches himself using his old nickname for her.

She gives him a wavering smile, "Don't be, I think I like it. Look, I know I'm not the same person, but whatever about me and...the person I used to be...obviously we have the same taste in men." This poor attempt at humor brings a forced laugh from her husband. "I mean it, I...I want to do this. You still have to be patient for me, though. I'm still not used to this. It's like someone who was dying of thirst killing themselves by drinking too much water at once. I can only take so much at once or it'll overstimulate me."

Finally understanding, Skinner gathers her into his arms. He doesn't try to kiss her this time, but lets her cuddle into him as has been her habit lately. After holding him for a moment or two, Scully gently pushes away, placing her hand to his cheek. She brings his mouth down to meet hers and gives him a quick, soft kiss.

"I love you, Walter."

"I love you, too, pet."

The vision fades, and Scully gives AD Skinner's hand another squeeze. "Walter..." she whispers, his name is almost a prayer. Their life together, their daughter, whom they couldn't have loved more if she'd been their own flesh and blood. All gone. Seeing him reminds her and she once again grieves.

"Walter, what's going to happen now? What's going to become of her? My Firefly..."

"Firefly?"

"Our daughter, Hotaru. It's Japanese for firefly. We adopted her after her village was destroyed in a tsunami. She grew up to be a doctor like me. Because of me. Now she might not even exist. My Firefly..."

"Scully..." the intricacies of her time accident are just becoming apparent. Not only had he made her a wife, but a mother as well. How can he ask her to revert to how they had been? "Dana, I'm so sorry." He walks over to the couch, guiding her along and helping her take her seat. Instinctively, she cuddles right up to him, curving her body to match his shape almost perfectly, like she couldn't bear to have a single part of him untouched.

"Sir, just...just let me, one last time. I can't help it." Skinner lifts up one of his arms so he can drape it around her. In all their years of working together, he never thought he'd see her weeping for love for him. His reputation as a hard-assed bastard had always been enough to keep her at a safe distance. Now, he doesn't know how or even if he should resist. Knowing full well that the woman next to him is over twice his age doesn't deter his desires. Only her eyes betray the years she's experienced in a short space of time. They were good years, happy years, but it cannot be denied that they were long. He smooths her hair, now very jealous of whatever future self of his she'd spent her life with. They sit quietly together for several minutes. Then Skinner reaches behind them and wraps a blanket around his patient, who's falling into a comfortable doze. He gets up, and after a little hunting he returns with a bottle and two plastic cups. He pours them both a good measure of scotch and hands one to her. She cups it in her hands with a mute smile of thanks.

"You've had quite a shock, I thought that would help. And I don't approve of drinking alone." He sits back down next to her and taps their cups together.

His gesture touches her, reminding her of better days. Scully doesn't dare spoil it by speaking, they sip their drinks in silence. After a few minutes of this, something loosens her tongue.

"I wouldn't change anything. I want you to know that. Whatever happened to me...it gave me lives I might not have had. I was happy. _We_ were happy. I never did get any memories back of what happened between 2000 and 2014, but we coped, we found ways to help me relearn what I needed to. For the first year, you stepped back your role, and were just there to be my friend, my help. Hotaru knew I was acting funny, she would ask if I was mad at you because I wouldn't let you do things like you used to. Just little things...like how close together we sat on the couch, how I wouldn't let you sneak up on me and put your hands on my hips... It took me a while to stop being so formal with you, but there was love. There was. It's just never been easy for me getting close to someone. I think you understood. I hope you did. It took time, but I think after the first year or so we were back on an even keel. After that, we were like newlyweds! It was hard being so far away from everyone, Mulder, my mother...God, my mother. She didn't like us at all. She kept 'reminding' me that running off with you was a mistake, bringing up the age gap like it was news, reminding me that you would make me a widow before my time." She smiles sneakily at him, "I never told Mom about my memory loss. We were both sure she'd use it as a reason to get a divorce and come home. I could've...but I knew that that was where my life was, and I loved you." Then she runs out of steam and falls silent again.

"You said that you'd stay _with_ me. Are those the only circumstances that would make you want to stay alive?"

Unable to answer, Scully droops her head, feeling the sharp sting of rejection. "I should've known. Of course you wouldn't want me. I shouldn't have said that."

"Just tell me, is that what it would take?"

"I don't know...sir. If...if..." she falters, fortifies herself with another drink. "If you thought we could, I'd like to try."

"Scully...I...we can't. I'm sorry, but we can't.

"I understand," she murmurs, setting her empty glass down. "I really do, I just...hoped."

Skinner can't stand to see how much he's hurting her, but there's nothing to do for it. He'd loved her, had probably been _in_ love with her, but the way their lives are, it's all too complicated at the moment. Too many risks involved. He's sure she knows this. Certain that he'd only made things worse by confusing her with his tenderness, making her hope...he's completely at a loss for how to correct matters. "I'm so sorry, Dana. So sorry."

For a moment she leans up against him, pressing her cheek against his chest. Then, having had her last cuddle with him, she shrugs off the blanket. "I'm tired. I want to sleep," she says shortly, getting up and slinking away. Skinner follows, taking a seat in the chair she normally folds clothes on. Without paying any attention to him, she's taught herself to ignore her "guards" as best she can, she drops off almost immediately. As she sleeps, he watches with an air of regret. On some level, he's glad, though. Glad that in some alternate universe, he'd been able and allowed to comfort her, please her, and keep her safe.


	3. Chapter 3

When she wakes up, she sees Mulder sitting in the chair, pulled up next to the bed. This brings a smile to her face. "You're back. I thought you'd be scared off by now. I'm so glad you're back."

"Of course. You can count on me. I don't scare too easily. Come on, time to eat. I swear you're already getting thinner." He glides over to the bed and takes her hands.

With a soft chuckle, Scully allows herself to be dragged out of bed, still smiling dreamily her partner. "I'm glad you're here."

He throws a frozen pizza in the oven and they cozy up together on the couch. Right now, she simply appears pleased to be with him. While they eat, he tries his best to bring her up to speed with recent history and current events. Scully listens without comment, taking it all in. They go over some of their most recent cases together; from her expression, some of them evoke fond memories, while others trigger dismay. He skates over some of the more unpleasant aspects of current times, in hopes of keeping her optimistic. It's probably the best thing for her: treating it like any other time they've spent working together off the clock. They keep the slumber party atmosphere going as the clock ticks past midnight, neither of them admitting they're sleepy, until they both conk out together, snuggled securely in each other's arms.

The next morning, Scully and her mother are sitting on the living room floor on some cushions, trying to act like everything is normal; like she isn't under suicide watch. They watch TV together, catching Scully up on the news—history, she calls it—over a tub of ice cream. Every now and then, Margaret tries to wheedle some information out of her daughter.

"Three times," she says for the hundredth time. "You were married three times. What was that like?"

"Mom, I told you, I didn't know it until I got back. I lived each one separately, unaware of the others. But...being back...it's different. They were all so different, but we were happy. I was happy, Mom. With each of them."

"Who was your favorite?"

"I'm not saying who they were, Mom. I told you this already. I don't want to talk about them."

"I know Fox had to be one of them, though. I'm glad that you two found each other at least once."

Not bothering to deny anything. Scully licks her spoon thoughtfully, "Yeah. Me, too. I can't pick favorites, though."

Still, her mother won't let it go. "Who was the biggest surprise? Can you at least tell me that?"

With a faraway look, Scully stares down into her empty hand, tracing the lines of her palm. "My Earendil," she sighs.

At 2 o'clock, Mrs. Scully opens the door and lets the next shift in. She knows the Lone Gunmen by reputation only, but recognizes them from their descriptions. As unusual of a bunch as they are, she's glad that her daughter can count so many as friends. "Come on in. Make yourselves comfortable. Dana's been sleeping on and off all day. If you want to watch a movie or something, go right ahead. It probably won't disturb her. She's been a little strange, but I'm sure Mulder's filled you in on the details. She's lived several lives at once and still won't even tell me who she was married to, except there's one she calls 'Earendil'. Do any of you know what that means?"

Langley scratches the back of his head. "That's one heavy-duty pet name. Whoever it is is one lucky guy."

"Why? What does it mean?"

"It's Elvish," Frohike pipes up, "Their 'most beloved' star. 'A light in dark places when all other lights go out'. He's gotta be someone special to get called that."

"I agree," Mrs. Scully nods, surprised it hadn't referred to Mulder, but Scully had assured her that it wasn't him. "Let me know if you find out anything. Who knows? It might be one of you."

They all mutter goodbyes and she leaves. Frohike goes into the living room and gets situated while Langley inspects the kitchen. Byers takes a turn in the bedroom, watching her only a bit uncomfortably. He pushes his shyness aside when he realizes he's never seen her like this before. Not just asleep, but so utterly helpless. In the time they'd known each other, he's come to almost regard her as a sister, someone to help and protect if possible. If she'd allow it, of course. Knowing what a strong and independent person Scully has always been, it's hard to imagine her reduced to this state. He never knew anyone who wanted to commit suicide, but hearing what little he did about her experience he sympathizes. There really must seem to be no other way out. After a few minutes, she starts shifting around, moaning, sobbing...Byers decides to intervene. He touches her shoulder, giving her a gentle shake. Her eyes fly open and she wakes up with a gasp. She sits up, staring at him.

"Byers?"

Suddenly shy again, he averts his eyes, "Hi, Scully," he mutters.

She reaches out and touches his arm, looking amazed that she can. "Am I dead?"

"No, not if we have anything to say about it."

"Then...you're alive!" She looks him up and down, kneeling up in bed and seizing his other arm as well. "You're alive!"

Byers looks alarmed, unsure how to handle this, "Yes, of course I am."

"Of course," she whispers in agreement. "Silly of me...It's good to see you. Thanks for coming."

"It's the least we can do."

Scully latches onto one word, "We? Are...the others? Are they here, too?" She slides out of bed and looks up at him expectantly.

"Yeah, they're out front, we brought some movies and stuff along, we weren't sure what this would involve."

At this, she starts fixing herself up, putting on makeup and brushing her hair. "God, I look like death warmed over," she mutters in disdain.

"You look fine," Byers wisely contradicts. "You've just been sick, that's all. Look, Scully...Dana..." She looks at him curiously, he'd never used her first name before, it reminds her how few people do. "I don't know exactly what you're going through...but I think I understand what it's like to have something like that taken away from you. To have something so good only to lose it, and to have to keep fighting even if you'll never get it back...I know what that's like."

Somehow, this is just what Scully's needed to hear. Empathy, rather than sympathy, has a positive effect on her. She crosses back to him and surprises him with a hug. "I never got a chance before to say this...and I'm not even sure I know how...but..." words fail her. For a moment, Byers was afraid it had been him, that he'd been her 'Earendil' and is unsure of what she wants from him. He just holds her for a few seconds, wondering...then he mentally shakes himself. She'd been glad to see him, yes, but it wasn't until she knew "the others" were here, too, that she showed a spark of life.

"Hey, that's what friends are for," he finally says, giving her back a pat.

Dimly, she hears the TV from the next room. Listening carefully, she recognizes it: Star Wars. Return of the Jedi, to be precise. Together, they go out into the living room. The moment she sees them, she's glad she did a little primping. She drags her gaze from one to another, eyes shining with unshed tears. By her calendar, these men should all be dead. Overcome with emotion at seeing her friends alive again, her eyes fall on Frohike. She claps a hand to her mouth as tears spill. Slowly, Scully creeps towards him, like a woman in a dream. When she's standing in front of him, she asks, almost shyly:

"Can I sit here?"

Frohike starts to get up to find another seat, "Sure, wherever you want."

"No! I...I mean...can I sit here with you?"

He's not sure how to respond; he certainly doesn't want to deny her anything, the way she is, and it would be no hardship to him to watch Star Wars with Agent Scully at his side. He can't help feeling a little awkward, though. He nods, and she immediately breaks into a bright smile, sinking down into the seat with him. She looks so happy she could just float away any minute.

"Good to see you up and about," Frohike says to her.

"Yeah," Langely agrees, "The way your mom talks, we were expecting a lot worse." Byers whacks him the back of the head. "Ow! I mean, you look good—better–ah, screw it. Watch the movie."

The four of them watch, passing around snacks amongst themselves, when Langley leans in closer with a satisfied expression. "There he is, the man himself..."

"Again with your Boba Fett fixation..." Byers groans disapprovingly.

"They guy had two lines in the whole series," Frohike remarks scathingly. "I don't see the appeal. What was he to you, anyway? A fake dad? Admittedly, he might've been able to make you get a haircut, but..." the men all freeze when they hear Scully giggle at his remarks. She casts Frohike a fond smile which she immediately hides again.

Langley pulls Byers in next to him and whispers. "I've never even seen her smile like that when she's healthy. And we're here to make sure she doesn't...?" he makes a slicing gesture across his throat. Byers nods and puts a finger to his lips.

A bit further into the movie, their debate opens up again and Frohike comes out swinging. Boba Fett had just gotten thrown into the Sarlacc pit. "See? How can you idolize a guy who first of all has done _virtually nothing_ and then gets eaten by the Sarlacc?"

Langley sighs with an irritated growl, "I told you, in the Extended Universe, Boba Fett survives-"

"That burp sounded pretty final to me," Frohike and Scully remark in unison, right down to the same inflection. They all stop to look at her, she says nothing but gives Frohike another warm smile, and receives one in return. Sneakily, she slips her hand into his, wondering if he can hear her heart pounding or scent out her desire. "See? Even Scully agrees. Wait a minute, since when do you...?" he turns to her with questioning eyes.

"My Earendil," she sighs, making all three men do a double-take. He nervously starts back and clears his throat to speak, to question her, when she puts her fingers over his lips. "Don't. Don't say anything. I know it's not real. Just let me stay. I need...God, I need...Please..." unable to explain, she presses herself into his body, wanting him to hold her.

Byers gets up, gestures to Langley to follow him, and they reconvene in the kitchen. Byers has his phone out and is dialing Mrs. Scully's number.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's us...look, we found out who 'Earendil' is...Boy, was she happy to see him."

"You mean it's one of you?"

"Yeah, but it's all right...I'll keep you posted."

Mrs. Scully sounds hesitant, like she isn't sure just how "right" things were as far as she's concerned. True, they all seemed like decent men, but certainly not like anyone she could see her daughter marrying. It does answer the question of why she would give someone a fantasy-based pet name, and who she might've learned it from. They hang up and the men peek cautiously back into the living room. A very uncomfortable Frohike is still wrapped up in Agent Scully's unexpected affection. He's torn between trying to watch the movie and figuring out what to do with the desirable woman next to him.

"Scully?" he ventures.

"Hmm?"

"Would it be all right if I asked you what you were doing?"

"Just let me stay, just for a little while. Please?"

"Look, ordinarily, I wouldn't have an objection to this. In fact, it plays well in to some of my more vivid flights of fancy, but I don't want to do the wrong thing."

Scully shifts, scooting away from him sadly. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't stop myself." She gets up and paces, unsure of where to go from here. She sits in a chair a few feet away from him, dejected. "I'm a freak."

"No, you're not. Why would you say that?" Frohike gets up and cautiously approaches her. "Look, Scully, I'm not very good at this, but..." She just takes his hand and presses it to her cheek, tears welling up. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but we can't, Dana. You and I...we couldn't. Not like this, especially," he says, thoroughly crushing her. His utter rejection of her is devastating, it takes her a moment for it to sink in, that he'd tossed her aside just when they'd been getting along so well. It's beyond her ability to grasp. She sets her jaw and stands up, effectively pushing him out of her way as she stalks into the kitchen. Everyone watches her and Frohike follows her closely, as she starts ripping open drawers, rummaging around for something.

"Mulder and your mom took all of your sharp things," Frohike points out, knowing she was hunting for a knife. "Your gun, too, and anything glass, plastic bags...anything, really."

"Why?" she screeches, her voice breaking into sobs. She pushes him, hard, as she breaks down crying. "I thought you'd...I really thought..." by now, Scully is crouched on the floor, curled up in the fetal position as she cries her heart out.

Frohike shoos the others away, feeling like this was a private moment between the two of them..She's been the object of his desire for years now, but he's unprepared to being such a crucial hinge on her happiness. Whatever his fantasies had been, he knows he's not cut out for her romantically. Her dramatic reaction is all the proof anyone needs of how fragile she is. He picks her up off the floor, she forces herself into his arms, making him hold her, and for now he complies. Frohike whips out his phone and dials Mulder's number. The second he picks up on the other end, he says abruptly, "You'd better get down here. Better hurry."

To his surprise, Scully snaps to attention, "No! Don't...don't say it like _that, _he'll think I've done something!"

"Why?"

"That's exactly what Bones said to Kirk at the end of Wrath of Khan! Have some tact!"

He talks into his phone again, "Mulder, she's fine, we could just use some assistance if you don't mind."

"Scully's seen Wrath of Khan?" comes Mulder's tinny response.

They hang up and Frohike turns his attention back to the woman in his arms."Tell me what happened." As awkward as their position is, at least she's stopped crying. She needed to be close.

Still trapping him in a fierce embrace, she bites her lip, thinking of where to begin. She takes a deep, steadying breath and sighs as her fit has passed. "It started like all the others did:: waking up in a life I knew nothing about. At least this time there was a better explanation for the memory loss; I'd been sick for about three days...with what we jokingly referred to as the Plague, running a high fever. We'd been completely isolated because of a series of winter storms...

4:15am

December 22, 2014

Baltimore, MD

"Dana? Dana, can you hear me?"

The fading remnants of her feverish delirium cling to her as she slowly regains consciousness; she focuses on the vaguely familiar voice. _Keep talking to me, please keep talking to me..._ she silently begs, using the voice as a safety line to draw her out of her bizarre imaginings. Her head is full of demons, clawing at her, trying to drag her down into fire. The fire, and cold; she shudders, softly moaning as she tries to speak.

"Dana, please come back. Please, God, don't take her yet..."

Now she physically reaches towards the source of the voice, pawing wildly in the dark. She feels a hand clasp hers and someone kisses her fingers, the next minute something wonderfully cool and damp dabs at her face. Slowly, she feels as though she's being pulled out of tormenting shadows. With enormous effort, she opens her eyes and brings them to face her savior. When she sees him clearly, she starts back in amazement, not believing her eyes. _Frohike?_ It doesn't add up. "What happened?" Scully asks, still weak and woozy with lingering illness.

"Dana," he gasps, overjoyed. He bends down over her and kisses her, she's too weak and bewildered to move away. "You're all right; thank goodness you're all right!"

Clutching her throbbing head, she sits up and grumbles, "That remains to be seen. What am I doing here?" The simple act of sitting up makes her need to stop to catch her breath. She clutches at the blankets on top of her, fighting off a chill.

"You live here. You're home, it's all right, you're safe."

Giving the bedroom a quick glance over—it certainly doesn't look like her room—she looks back at him. "All right, then the next and more important question is what are _you_ doing here?"

Noting that this doesn't bode well, he answers as delicately as he can, "I live here, too."

"You live here, too. God, this is even weirder than the other dreams. What happened, to me? I feel terrible."

Frohike nods sympathetically, "You nearly died, I think. That was a close one." He still hasn't let go of her hand, and he's now stroking it between his. "I think you're out of the woods, though. Just rest."

This answer isn't good enough and Scully is starting to lose patience, "I don't know if I've already asked you this, though it seems as though I have. What happened to me?"

"You've been sick, very sick. You've been running a 104 fever since yesterday evening."

She finds talking makes her head hurt even more, so she's more frugal with her words. "Hospital?"

"We're snowed in. No one's gotten out in days." He gives her hand another smooch, bringing it to his face. "Just trust me. Don't get excited. You need to rest."

Still very confused about what's going on, Scully has to admit to herself that she's exhausted. Grateful that despite present company, at least she isn't alone like this, and is with, for lack of a better term, a friend. He holds her by the wrist, now guiding her hand around a cup of water, her sudden frailty alarming her. He helps her drink and then readjusts her pillows and covers. He lays her back down and tucks her in. _God, I'm an invalid,_ she thinks with mild horror, now especially glad that she has help, such as it is. "Thank you," she says sincerely. Frohike kisses her hand again and dims the light. He doesn't leave, though, as she feels him stroking her hair as she falls asleep. This time, her sleep is uninterrupted by fevered hellish dreams. She rests peacefully, already feeling like she's getting well.

When she opens her eyes again, she sees Frohike dozing in a chair next to the bed. Something about this sight amuses her, she never would've pictured him as a sick-nurse. Remembering how tenderly he'd treated her a few hours earlier, she feels something within her melt.

As he'd sat up to watch over her, Frohike thought over her recent behavior. Something was definitely wrong: her surprise that they live together, her avoidance of his first name, failure to recognize her surroundings... A quick web search revealed that one possible side effect of a fever like hers is memory loss. Not as profound as what you see on soap operas, but noticeable gaps in memory have been reported. Resigned that he'd have to make introductions again when she wakes up, he settled himself down in a chair near the bed. At least she wasn't afraid, that will go a long way in reasoning with her. So he waited, watching, when finally the long hours of caring for her weighed on him and he fell asleep.

Frohike wakes up with a start, surprised to see Scully looking at him. Quickly remembering his findings, he jumps at the opportunity to relate them to her. "Look, Dana, you might be a little confused at the moment, and that's normal. You ran a high fever for over 12 hours, and they say that it can cause memory lapses."

"Oh. Good," she replies. "That actually answers a lot."

Starting small, he questions her. Both of them go into this exercise knowing that she's going to get some of these wrong. "Let's start from the top. Can you tell me your name?"

"My full name?"

"If you can."

"Dana Katherine Scully."

"And do you know me? Recognize me?"

"Of course. Is Mulder going to come? Or are the others here?"

"Others?"

"I've never seen one of you without the rest. Are Byers and Langley here, too?"

A shadow passes over Frohike's face at the mention of his friends. "No. No, they're not. God, that's not good. It's good you remember them, us...but...Dana, they're dead."

Her eyes go wide and she gulps, unprepared for this information to be put so bluntly. "Dead?"

He nods, "About 12 years ago now."

Scully struggles to sit up, "But, how? And how did you escape?"

"They died a hero's death...to save others." His short, clipped tone lets her know that he doesn't want to talk about it. "And I survived..." he gives a humorless chuckle, "because, how did Langley put it? 'I'd rather shop for curtains with my wife than go with them.' End quote."

"Wife?" she asks, still processing the news of her friends' deaths.

Knowing how she'll probably react, that she'll certainly be less than overjoyed at the prospect, he hesitates. "You don't think anyone would marry me?"

She cocks an eyebrow with a familiar smirk, "Willingly? Look, you're a decent guy, but we both know you're not exactly Hugh Hefner. I didn't even know you had a girlfriend."

He has to chuckle at this, "Well, while I may not have a houseful of bunnies at my beck and call, and I may not have stepped off the cover of GQ, some ladies might think personality counts for something. Crazy, isn't it?"

"All right, all right. I shouldn't have made fun. I remember when Mulder first introduced me to the three of you. You were clearly Mulder's friends, Mulder's colleagues. I'd say I tolerated you as best as I could at the time. Then somewhere along the way, somehow you three became _my_ friends, _my_ colleagues...it means a lot. I don't think I've ever told you that. I'll miss them, too." Scully sits in silence for a moment, lost in thought. They'd been her friends, and they might not have ever known it. Now they're dead. She lets out a melancholy sigh, wishing that whatever fate was systematically stripping her of her friends and family would kindly knock it off. "So who is she? Someone you met at a convention?"

"No. She's an old friend, she'd been part of the gang for a while, even if she didn't always realize it." He takes her hands, looking down at them, how small, slender and white they looked compared to his. He touches a silver band on her finger, a diamond-cut amethyst accompanied by a tiny diamond on either side. "She's you, Dana."

The look on her face was about what he was expecting. Scully mimics him, looking at the rings on her hand. Seized by a wave of fear, she tears them off, "I can't...I can't be!" She puts her hands over her face, as the implications of their relationship hit home. _I married Frohike? We live together, sleep in the same bed..._ she shudders involuntarily at the thought.

Her revulsion is more than any man could take. Frohike watches her histrionics with distaste, taking off his own wedding band with all the appearances of being glad to be rid of it. "Fine. Don't." He sets them on the nightstand and stands up to leave...then he pauses. He catches a glimpse of something glinting in the lamplight, something etched into the inside of his wedding band. Curious, he picks it up, tilting it to get a better look. In that moment, all of his anger vanishes and he's left with sympathy for the frightened, still sickly woman in the bed. "Dana..." he sighs, looking from the inscription to his reluctant wife. Frohike reaches out and pats her hand, looking again at what was written on the silver in her handwriting. He couldn't stay mad at her, not now.

"What? What is it?"

He hands her rings back to her, "Look in yours. We wrote in each other's rings before the wedding, in case someday, in the heat of an argument one or both of us would take them off. Look."

Scully studies hers, unable to make any sense of it. "There's nothing written in mine, not that I can read. Maybe it's the style code or something."

"Try spelling it out."

"I-M-Z-A-D-I. I'm-zay-dih?"

"Im-_zah_-dee. Imzadi. It's from Star Trek, it means 'beloved'."

Her look softens as she looks between her ring and the one who gave it to her. "Oh. What did I write in yours?"

"I don't think you'll be able to read that, either. It's Elvish."

"Elvish? Like the shoemaker's elves? Keebler elves? Santa's elves?"

"More like Lothlorien Elves. From Lord of the Rings."

Scully shakes her head, "I've never read those books."

"Well, you saw the movies. We usually watch them around Christmastime. Probably because that's when they came out in theaters."

Not remembering anything about such films, she finally asks, "What year is this, anyway?"

"2014"

"WHAT?"

Frohike backs away, their sweet moment dispelled by her ferocity. "What year do you last remember?"

"2000. How in the world could it take such a huge chunk out of my memory? Oh, dammit, I'm 50? I'd better assess the damage." She gets out of bed and takes shaky steps towards the bathroom.

"Just keep in mind that you've been sick," Frohike reminds her.

Scully stands in front of the mirror that shows her from the waist up. She's grown her hair out long, past her shoulders, there are wisps of gray at the sides that she silently bemoans. Her eyes look careworn, still indicative of the horrors she's lived through and witnessed; and true to Frohike's warning, she still looks rather peaked and pale from her illness. _Still, _she reminds herself, _not bad, all things considered. _She turns around with a grimace and a groan. "This is great, I go to bed one night and wake up old, fat, and married." She faces Frohike, who's standing in the doorway.

"Come on, you're not fat."

She glowers at him, holding her hands over her backside. "I have a fat ass."

"You're fifty, as people get older..." he stops this thread, goes back to the source of her dismay. "It's not fat."

"Well, what would you call it?" she growls dangerously.

Resisting the urge to grab her by the offending body part, he suggests hopefully, "Plump." She growls. "I think it's cute," he amends.

Halfway flattered by his assessment, she cracks a smile and heaves a sigh. She places her hands on his shoulders and they just stand like that for a moment, the former trying to imagine having the latter for a husband. _It's Frohike,_ she inwardly groans. _He's been nothing but kind to you_, a nagging voice in her head rebukes her. "I'll be right out," she tells him, closing the door. As she freshens up, she finds herself holding herself up by the towel bar in the shower. Realizing too late that this wasn't a good idea, she's overcome with lightheadedness...

Frohike hears a loud thud and dashes into the bathroom. He finds his wife lying scrunched up in the stall, unconscious. He turns off the shower and wraps her in a towel as she moans, disoriented as she comes around. "Dana, what were you thinking? You can't stand up for that long. Come on, darling, let's get you out of there.

"That you, Frohike?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Don't..." Scully wraps the towel around her body more securely. He picks her up and lays her on the bathroom rug, drying her off as she struggles in an effort to preserve her modesty. "Don't look at me."

"Now's not the time to be shy, it's nothing I haven't seen before," Frohike reminds her.

Scully is helpless to do anything but surrender to his care yet again. She notes that he's being completely professional about the whole thing, treating her like he would have before. He certainly knows better than to take what would be construed as liberties in the current situation. He helps her into her plush robe, now turning the blow-dryer on her hair. "Jesus, Dana, you'll catch your death." After her hair is dry, he blows hot air over her body as well, getting her warm and toasty again. Once they're done, he helps her stand. When he's afraid of her legs giving out, Frohike scoops her up and carries her back into the bedroom. It's a bit of a struggle.

"You know, they warned me about going out with someone taller than me," he remarks as he puts her to bed yet again. "Maybe I should've listened."

Fully recovered from her fainting spell, Scully looks up at him "I'm not really taller than you, am I?" She's never been taller than anyone as an adult. When she thinks of it, she's never been around him without her heels on, but she never realized the illusion was true.

"Not by much, I'm just teasing. Maybe an inch difference."

"Look, I appreciate the treatment, but I can't just lay in bed all day or I'll go insane." She pushes herself up and swings her legs out. Frohike reaches to help her, but she pulls away, not wanting to encourage his attention. "No, I can do it. I don't need your help," she tells him a bit more shortly than is wise. He pulls back abruptly, following her into the living room, watching her support herself against the wall occasionally. At one point he sees her falter, and leaps ahead to catch her but she recovers herself. She turns on him and snarls "I'm fine!" She's still embarrassed that he saw her naked in the shower, and whatever she'd said about him being her friend, he's still not someone she wants to see her like that. Add that to her sense of helplessness and confusion, and it's enough to put her shields squarely up. Scully drops into the nearest chair, panting, having severely overworked herself in her pride.

Frohike turns on the TV to the local weather report. It looks like there's a break between storms. They live near enough to walk to the grocery store and they could use a restocking before the next one hits. "Dana, think you can hold up for a while if I go out?"

"I'm all right," she answers shortly, averting her eyes significantly.

That does it. "God, no wonder..."

"No wonder what?"

Frohike pauses, thinking if it's deserved. The way she's been acting, it seems to be. "No wonder you couldn't land a man before we started seeing each other. I don't know how Mulder did it all those years if this is what you were like."

"Like?" she challenges.

"This! Stuck-up, ungrateful, frigid-"

"That's enough!" Hearing him allude to her more cruel nickname was more than she could stand. "Get out. Just go, wherever it is you were planning on disappearing to."

"If I'm not back before 11, good news, it'll mean you're probably single again. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Leave me alone!"

"You will be," he mutters, slamming the door.

Once she's on her own, Scully huffs, looking around at her surroundings. Her satisfaction in being rid of Frohike is short-lived, as it hits home that she's in a time and place she knows nothing about, and for all she knows she's just cast out her only friend in the world. Part of her regrets her treatment of her husband, and she sends a silent prayer for his safety. _He's right, you know. This is exactly why you were always alone. You never let anyone get close enough to you, even if they wanted to be._ She grits her teeth and cringes. _So what if it's Frohike? Like he said, he might not have stepped off the cover of GQ but he's a nice guy and has been trying like hell to help today. And what thanks did he get? Stuck-up, ungrateful, frigid...right on all counts, my friend._

As he stamps through the snow-covered streets, Frohike's anger soon cools and he realizes he'd been unfair to Scully. He wishes he could run back and apologize but he knows he won't get another chance to get out in the next few days. As much as he always cared for her, he knows her personality flaws enough, he should've been able to predict if not condone her behavior. She's proud, defensive, and overly self-sufficient. Babying her like he had, though meant kindly, would have come across as condescending and offensive to Agent Scully. Calling her frigid was below the belt, too, but in the heat of the moment he'd been aiming to hurt. He trudges on, thinking of what to pick up at the store. Knowing the kind of crowds that will most likely have gathered, he devises a plan of attack.

Back at home, Scully is poking around the living room, from there going into the kitchen to see what they had. Not much, she finds. Now she knows he's out there risking life and limb to lay in enough supplies to last through the next storm. Just when the silence is getting to her, it's shattered by an obnoxiously loud drum intro—and the next second she hears the theme from Ghostbusters! Searching around for the source of the noise, she finds a flat, rectangular piece of plastic, that she'd initially assumed was either a coaster or a futuristic calculator. Now in place of the blank screen, she sees Mulder's face and name appear on it, as well as the word "Talk" written in green beneath him. Touching it stops the music and she holds it to her ear, putting her hand over her other one and shouting "Mulder? Is that you?"

"Scully? Of course it's me," he answers in a normal tone. "Why are you shouting?"

"What? Wow, we've got a really clear signal. Oh, god, Mulder, I'm glad to hear your voice. It's been an awful day." Just having him on the other end of the line gives her hope that things will get better.

"I almost didn't call your phone. Last time I talked to Frohike he said you were pretty sick. How are you feeling now?" Mulder sounds concerned, Scully's health had always been a source of stress for him.

"I'll be all right," she assures him, "Looks like I'm out of the woods, but I'm still so shaky and weak." Her fear of being an invalid is apparent in her voice, like she's afraid she won't fully recover from it.

"I know it's hard, but just let him help you."

Scully fidgets, running her fingers through her hair as she hesitates telling Mulder of her condition. _He'll really go to town on me if he ever found out. Oh, let him..._ "Look, Mulder, there's something else, something you'll probably find funny but it's actually quite serious."

"You want me to promise not to laugh? Okay, lay it on me. I won't laugh until you give me the all-clear."

"All right, here goes." She takes a breath as she prepares to come clean. "I ran a 104 fever for half the day yesterday, and consequently am suffering...memory loss."

Mulder's voice is abnormally serious, "Memory loss?" He repeats solemnly. "Like last week, last month?"

"Try close to the last century. I...have no memory of anything between now and...I mean between June of 2000 and today."

Nearly going back on his word, he turns his bark of laughter into an unconvincing cough. "Bet you were surprised."

"Yeah, you could say that."

"And Frohike?"

She sighs, snarling at herself again, "I was so mean to him, Mulder. He's the best sick-nurse I could hope for and I threw it all back in his face. How did we end up together, Mulder? How did I end up married to Frohike?"

"I think that's something you'll want to talk about with him."

"It's so good to hear you, Mulder. I'm glad nothing happened to us, nothing bad."

Wisely choosing not to respond to this, he changes the subject. "So, you said you're still kind of woozy? You better not be forcing yourself to do too much."

"I'll be all right, I'll probably lay back down in a bit, but I was getting tired of being in bed. I'm waiting for Frohike to get home. Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd say," she admits with a smile. "I hope he's all right." Her conscience nags at her and she confesses, "We had a fight before he left. He said I was ungrateful and frigid-" She toys with her wedding rings, examining the inscription again. Idly, she slips them back on and openly admires them.

"Bet you loved hearing that."

"He was right. I kept saying I didn't need his help, even though I do."

Mulder decides to stop her before she beats herself up too much, "You're used to doing things yourself. You never would've expected this. The last time you remember, you weren't even all that close to him."

"I know. Still, I should make it up to him somehow. Thanks for not giving me a hard time about it." Just then, she hears the lock turning. "He's home! Gotta go. I'll talk to you later, though, okay?" She's even surprised herself with how happy she is to see him coming through the door. She hits "End", sets the phone down and stands up to meet him. He stomps the snow off of his shoes, sets down several grocery bags he'd had looped around his arms before brushing himself off. Scully actually looks tempted to hug him on sight, so relieved that their harsh words hadn't driven him out to a frozen grave. "Hi..." she begins uncertainly.

Frohike, however, is in no mood to split hairs, he cuts right to the chase: "I'm sorry, Dana, I shouldn't have said those things."

"I'm sorry, too. Look, I do appreciate everything you've done. Really. I'm just really bad at this." She steps towards him but he keeps her at bay.

"Dana, I'm cold and wet, I don't want you to be, too. What are you doing still up, anyway? You should be in bed. I thought you were only getting up to prove a point. You must be wiped out."

Scully nods honestly, "I am, I just wanted to make sure you got home all right. The weatherman said the next storm is right on top of us, due to blow at any minute. I couldn't rest, knowing you were out in that."

"Well, the mission was a success," he announces, now unpacking the bags. "It's mostly canned things that we won't necessarily need to reheat in case the power goes out again, but" he holds up a carton of strawberry cheesecake ice cream. "I know it's your favorite, and you only let yourself have it when things aren't so good. I think this time calls for it, don't you? I'm sorry, Dana." He finishes putting things away, and once again approaches his wife. Cautiously, he places his hands on her shoulders, drawing them down her forearms. She can tell that he wants to kiss her and is holding back, and at the moment she is very grateful for his restraint. He shakes his head sadly before putting on a brave face for her sake. "Go on, get to bed. I'll fix us something, gotta get your strength back." He looks like he wants to say something more, teetering either way. He's said it a hundred times, but this time it's different. Still, he takes the chance that she needs to hear it, might like to hear it: "I love you."

For the first time in 13 years, she doesn't say it back, but she's obviously affected by it. Scully puts a hand over her mouth, totally caught off guard. It's been a long time since someone has said that to her, as far as she can remember. She pats his cheek, sighing his surname, unable to say more. As nice of a thing as it is to hear, ordinarily, it almost makes her feel worse. It certainly makes her feel guilty again for how she's treated him, trying to console herself with the reminder that she had no reason to react any other way. Just because they're suddenly married, even if he truly loves her, it doesn't mandate her to reciprocate. She lets her hand drop and she fidgets awkwardly. They stand silently for a time, then Scully reaches toward him again and idly twines their fingers together with a nervous titter. Then she takes his advice and goes back to bed. As she lays back down, she wishes she hadn't gotten up at all; her legs are sore and her head is still throbbing, not to mention being short of breath and dizzy. Again, she feels him smooth her hair, and is slightly less turned off by the idea than she had been. "Frohike?"

He cringes a bit from her persistent use of his last name, "What is it?"

"How did we ever...you know?"

"Well, we were taken aboard an alien spacecraft, strategically tied up naked together and forced to show a bunch of alien kids how humans reproduce. After we were released, we got closer and the rest is history."

"WHAT?"

He laughs, "Kidding. But I had you going there, didn't I? Are you awake enough for the whole story?"

"Uh huh," she yawns, propping herself up more.

"Well, it started pretty close to when you last remember, actually. Mulder had disappeared, just vanished off the face of the Earth. You were taking it pretty hard, more so than most people realized." He pauses, unsure of how much else to say, decides to tell everything. "You were pregnant. Alone, worried, not in good shape."

Scully can't believe her ears. Then she remembers that in her brief tour of her home, she saw no indicators that a child had ever lived there. "Did I lose it?"

By now, Frohike has to sit down, it's not an easy thing for him to talk about any more than it is for her to hear about. "Not in the sense you mean. I'll get to that. Just listen. So anyway, there you were, holding it together with all this going on...one night after work you stopped into a coffee shop on the way home. Internet was down at headquarters, so I was using one of their free computers. We saw each other and talked. Just talked. Then, we kind of got into a habit. Eventually I even came to your place. It just kind of built." He slips off his ring again and shows her what's written inside. "We went to see Fellowship of the Ring together, and you called me this," he points to a strange word, Earendil. "It's Elvish; a light in dark places when all other lights go out."

Scully blushes, "Did I call you that a lot?"

"No," Frohike shakes his head, "Just the once. That's why I was surprised you wrote it there."

"So, what happened with...the pregnancy?"

"You came to term, gave birth, everything was fine. But our enemies were highly interested. We knew it even before he was born, he'd be in danger. For those few months we had him, we were a family. He wasn't mine, biologically, of course...but that didn't stop him from being my son. We wanted him to be safe. And that's where he is. Alive and well, and safely removed from us."

"Whose was he, biologically?" Scully wonders. "And why would They be interested in him?"

"That's the complicated part. He's an alien hybrid—I'm not joking this time. Part you, part alien...part Mulder."

"Mulder... So when did he come back? I just talked to him before you came home. I'd said something like I was glad nothing bad had happened to us and he changed the subject."

"He was back in time for the wedding," Frohike answers, getting up and opening a drawer. He takes out a small photo album and flips open a page. There she is, radiant in white, surrounded by her friends. She'd never seen the Gunmen cleaned up so well. "Skinner gave you away. Mulder would've done it, but he was your "man of honor" You'd even threatened to make him wear a dress! That's the last time Byers and Langley were photographed..." he trails off sadly, looking at his friends, frozen forever in a happy memory. Scully now sees they'd both suffered considerable losses, even faced some of them together. That he'd considered himself a father to her child, even though she can't remember having him, touches her. She sits up straighter and takes his hand, wishing she was better equipped to console her husband. Her light in dark places. She's certainly had her share of the dark... Wrapping up in the blankets, she scoots closer, squeezes his hand and kisses his cheek. As much as she'd tried to harden herself against him in her initial flash of fear and disdain, all she had been able to remember were those moments they'd had together, however brief, that she'd been perfectly secure, and in some cases, having a good time despite herself.

"You'd better get some rest while I fix lunch. I probably shouldn't have told you all that at once, but you had to know."

"I did," Scully agrees, "Thank you. For everything." She lays back against her pillows and drifts back off to sleep. She wakes up in about half an hour and has a bowl of chicken soup with her husband. He brings it in on a breakfast-in-bed tray and sits with her. While she eats, she tries to avoid his sorrowful gaze.

After he clears up, he brings back what looks like a larger version of her phone. Tapping the screen brings it to life, and he touches a blue logo emblazoned with an S. "Here's something I think you'll like."

Scully watches, curiously. Soon she hears the sound of a phone dialing, and in a moment her mother appears on the screen! "Mom?"

"Hi, Dana! How are you feeling? You look much better already."

Looking confusedly at Frohike, turning back to the screen, she answers, "Y-yes, I'm feeling a lot better. I think I'm gonna make it." She turns back to Frohike, whispers, "How?"

"Webcam," he whispers, "Talk to your mother. And don't forget we're on first-name basis now."

This isn't very helpful, for try as she might, Scully can't remember Frohike's first name. "Okay...how about a hint?" Little does she realize, she's spoken this loudly enough for her mother to hear, and to start suspecting that there was something wrong. Helpfully, she intervenes.

"I'm glad you're there to take care of her, Melvin."

Scully chokes back a snort of laughter, holding her hand over her face. "Melvin?" she whispers, "Oh, you poor guy!"

The accused would have been embarrassed, but is still glad to hear his wife laugh again, even at his expense. "Yeah," he confirms dully.

Looking between her mother and her husband, Scully hastily explains, "When I was sick, when my fever went away it took some of my memory with it. I'm still getting...acquainted, as it were.'

"I thought so," Margaret surmises. "I hope everything is all right."

Scully surprisingly finds herself already at peace with the situation, "Oh yeah. We just need to get to know each other again. I'm sure we'll be fine." Frohike leaves to give her some privacy, glad that she's enjoying the "new" technology so much. From the next room he hears snatches of their conversation, smiling to himself that he'd done something right.

Once the next storm is upon them, it becomes as dark as night, striking both of them as ominous. Their base instinctive reaction to storms makes them nervous, knowing that they're now trapped yet again. Without knowing why, they stay close, playing into the urgent need not to get separated. Scully spends most of it in bed, but insists on getting up to stretch her legs and to familiarize herself with their home. She and Frohike take stock of the kitchen and are reassured that they won't need to get out for anything until the storms have all passed. She allows him to help with a bit more grace than she showed earlier, letting him guide her around by the arm, and occasionally picking her up to carry her back to bed, but she's already getting stronger. With her mixed-up sleeping habits and the perpetual darkness outside, it's hard to keep track of time, but two days have now passed since she awakened in this life, and she's already found herself softening her feelings towards Frohike. Late that night, Scully gets up and goes out into the living room where she finds him asleep on the couch. Feeling suddenly shy and awkward, she takes in the sight of him—he can't be very comfortable—she approaches his side, kneels down and shakes his shoulder. "Mel..." he opens an eye and finds her in the dark, "C-come to bed." Scully is very glad of the darkness so he won't see her blushing. She can't remember ever having said that to a man before, and would never have before considered saying it to _this_ man. "Come to bed," she says again, taking his hand. Obediently, he gets up and follows her back to the bedroom. Pushing aside her shyness, and her former attitude towards him, Scully cuddles up to him, seeking his warmth. Deep within her lies physical memory, her body knows him even if her mind does not, and she's comforted in spite of herself. Frohike brushes her cheek, running a hand through her hair, his petting already feels familiar and she closes her eyes, grateful that she isn't alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Back in present day, Scully finishes telling the story. "And that was that. It was actually kind of lucky we'd been snowed in like that. Campus was closed for a few days so I had some time off work to recover and get caught up." She's back in the living room now, on the couch, looking around nervously like a trapped wild thing. _What's the point of it? All those years, all that time, getting close to those people, learning to love them, making a home and family, now it never even happened. Was it some sort of punishment? Karmic justice for being hard to reach?_

The Lone Gunmen look at her; she's just about worn herself out both physically and emotionally from recounting her tale. She reaches out once more for Frohike's hand but stops herself halfway when she sees him flinch back. _He doesn't want me. Not now, not like this. That future is gone._ She sighs, reclining into the backrest of the chair. They finish Return of the Jedi, and once that's over they flip around to see what's on TV. To their great fortune, they find a few standup comic shows, which serve both as a mood-lightener and a crash course on recent and current events for Scully.

That night, Mulder is back for his shift with a very downhearted Scully. Since getting back from Nebraska, she'd swung from dizzying highs to heartbreaking lows, almost cruelly reunited with her former loves, dealing with the fact that they have no memory of being with her. It's definitely taken its toll on her.

"I don't know what to do, Mulder, nothing's going to turn out the way I've seen it. What was the point in living through all of that if it has to be taken away from me? You want to know who the others were? Do you? Because by now I know for a fact that there's no saving the future, at least not those futures. They don't want me, they're scared to death of me."

He sits next to her with his arm around her shoulders, "If you want. No pressure, though."

"Skinner and Frohike. I spent 25 years apiece as Mrs. Skinner and Mrs. Frohike. I took their last names and wore them gladly. I'm ready for my abuse."

Taking a moment to recover from her blunt delivery, and knowing enough not to express his surprise—_Frohike?- _he rubs her arm comfortingly, "I bet it was nice. And I bet it was good seeing them again."

"It was. But what does that say about me, Mulder? That I'm that lonely or desperate that I'd give myself to anyone? That despite all outward appearances or what I thought I knew about myself, I'd give it all up for a white picket fence house in the suburbs?"

"I don't think that at all. I think it just means that you are blessed with a great capacity for love, to give and receive it. It doesn't have to be what everyone expects or considers the ideal guy. It means you can see the best in people, and if you're brave enough to let down your shields, to let others see the best in you. It doesn't make you desperate. And as far as that house in the suburbs goes, imagine for a moment that you'd woken up in any of those lives, still married to the same people, but you were still working for the Bureau, with some kind of price on your head, and for whatever reason you live in the sewer..." When Scully snorts back laughter at this last suggestion, he goes on. "I think you'd still be able to be happy. I think more than anything it was the company you kept that made you happy in those lives. Human beings aren't solitary creatures, Scully. We're meant to seek each other out, to...to create ties."

She looks up with a start, "What did you say?"

"I just mean it's not anti-feminist to want to spend your life-"

"No, you said 'to create ties.'"

"So what? I'm not even sure what that's supposed to mean, anyway."

Scully puts her hands to her head as though having an epiphany. "Something that's too often neglected," she recites dreamily. "That's it! You...all of you...you tamed me. Why didn't I see it before? And you-!" She laughs outright, which is music to Mulder's ears. "It's just so perfect that you said that. 'To create ties.' Do you even know what you said?"

"Right now, I'm going with a definite 'no'. What are you talking about?"

"The Little Prince! Didn't you ever read that?"

"No, I haven't. Why is it perfect that I said...whatever I said?"

Scully grins at him widely, "Because that's what the fox says! Listen, you were right, you were absolutely right! He said being tamed can be painful, too, but one must endure the pain. It doesn't matter if none of you remember, I've already done it, you've already done it to me. Mulder..." she sighs, doing an abrupt right-face towards him in her seat, seizing his face in her hands and planting a kiss on his lips. "Thank you. Thank you for taming me." Frowning at the utterly confused look on her partner's face, she gets up to search her bookcase. "I know I have it here somewhere, it was a graduation present...Here." She finds her copy of The Little Prince and opens it to the right page. "Read that, it'll all make sense. It isn't long."

Mulder reads the passage she pointed out, and when he's done he puts the book down. "What will remind you of us? For the fox it was the color of wheat. How about Frohike?"

"Lord of the Rings, no question. I had no interest or use for it before, but it will always be special to me now. Good, twelve year old Scotch will always remind me of cozy nights on the couch with Walter. I never drank hard liquor all that much before him, but sometimes we'd have a glass and cuddle up. That will be his."

"What about me? Anything special remind you of me?"

Scully looks pleased at his enthusiasm, like he wanted her to have something to remember him by. "Plan 9. Definitely. When you died, you'd seen it 115 times."

"Wow. I'd better get cracking!"

"I saw it about 50 times. It became a standby, if we had a rough day and needed to stick something to cheer up. That was on nights you picked, of course, but I developed a taste for it, too. I don't know if you ever realized that."

Mulder traces her cheek. "Are you going to be all right?"

"It'll still be hard," Scully admits, "but I think so. At least I've rationalized it. I'm glad to have been tamed. I love you all, and I'm grateful for the experience. I just have to keep going. Even if those futures are lost, they were mine. They happened."

"You're not going to start sending naughty gifts to Skinner now, are you? The old secret picture in the pocket watch trick?" Scully smirks, actually looks like he's given her an idea. Mulder switches tacks, "I'm glad you're feeling better about all this. I can't think of many who'd be able to cope with what you've gone through."

"A lot didn't. Look at all those suicide victims back in Nebraska. If I'd been left to my own devices, I would have, too. I'm glad I didn't now. That's another thing to keep me going, knowing that all of you care enough about me to keep me around."

That night, as Mulder is watching her sleep, there's a knock at the door and Skinner lets himself in. He joins Mulder in the bedroom.

"I don't mean to intrude," Skinner says by way of greeting. "I had to see her again. Had to make sure she's all right." Mulder nods and uses this opportunity to take a break. In the bedroom, all is quiet, she seems to be sleeping soundly. Skinner watches sympathetically, wishing there was something he could do to lessen her hopelessness. An hour later, she's sleeping fitfully,"wrestling alligators" and vocalizing wordlessly in a terrible nightmare. He goes up to her bed, feeling distinctly uncomfortable but still knowing that he should help. He takes her hand and brushes her hair back out of her face. She jolts out of sleep and tries to focus on him. "H..Huh? Walter?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Hi. Walter, something terrible has happened. They sent me back. I have to go through all that again."

"Shh. You can do it. I know you can. It'll be hard, but you'll get through it."

Turning over on her side, she smiles lazily at him. "You look great. Are you sure you haven't come for me?"

Making a quick decision to wing it, he answers, posing as her husband sent back from Heaven. "Not yet. They made a mistake, you were sent back to correct it. You need to fill those years, the blank ones, remember? You're back where you started, anything can happen now. Whatever does happen, you have friends and people who love you here to help. It might not end up the same as what you remember, some of it will be hard and probably dangerous and frightening, but you'll come through okay. You've had a long trip, you're tired now, but that won't last forever." He strokes her hand between his as she beams at him. "You'll be all right. You're strong, sharp, brave...just don't let yourself get hard. The Walter Skinner in your time can't give you what we had, I'm sorry to say. But he still cares, don't forget that. He'll have ways of showing you. There was never a time that I didn't love you." He bends down and kisses her forehead, her cheek, her mouth... "I'll be seeing you. Good luck."

"Bye," she whispers as she drifts off again.

Skinner leaves the room, giving no sign that he was going to explain himself to Mulder, when he's stopped at the door.

"What did you say to her?" Mulder whispers.

"What she needed to hear, what I had to say," he answers softly. Both men stand in the bedroom doorway, gazing in at their patient. In one unspoken moment, they realize what the three of them are caught up in. If it's not explained and diffused immediately, it could lead to some ugly tension in the future. "I'm not going to pursue her. I can't. As much as I want to, I can't," Skinner murmurs regretfully. From his vantage point, he sees her face turned slightly towards the two of them. "God, she's beautiful," he adds. "Take good care of her, or you'll have me to answer to."

Mulder nods, not sure what to think of their highly unique love-triangle. Both men love her, she loves them both right back. The only way to resolve it is for one to willingly step out. It would've been impossible to ask her to choose, especially in her current condition. "I will, sir. You can count on that."

"I know. I've said my goodbye, and it's not like she's getting a transfer or anything. I know we'll both be able to conduct ourselves professionally. I put the idea in her head that I can't give her what she needs, it won't take her long to realize that you can."

"I won't let her down," Mulder promises, feeling a strange kinship with the older man. Skinner leaves without another word, and Mulder resumes his shift.

When she wakes up again, Mulder is back, sitting on the bed and watching her sleep. She doesn't say anything, just stares up at him as though admiring the view. Taking his hand and giving it a little tug, she silently suggests that he get under the covers with her.

"How're you feeling?"

"Fine," she whispers, scooting over to make room for him. He doesn't make a move to join her, instead he traces her face thoughtfully.

"Not until you're better," he tells her firmly.

"Let me. I want to be close."

As much as he'd love to slide into bed and cuddle her, something tells him it wouldn't be right. He lays on top of the covers, propped up on his elbow to look at her. "You're going to get better."

Scully smiles serenely, "I know. He came to me while I was sleeping, told me I'd be all right. Like he's looking after me. I hope he can do something for Hotaru. Even if she can't be mine, at least make her safe."

Mulder has no idea what she's talking about, unsure whether to chalk it up to her being half-asleep or a side effect of her experience. He surmises that it has something to do with Skinner's visit, that she'd been consoled by it. "Are you planning on sticking around?"

"It doesn't look like I have much choice, does it? I can't just off myself for my own convenience. It's just like...planning to retire but they keep bumping back the age right when you get to it. I can't rest yet, I have to keep going. He...he said not to forget the people I have now, that I don't have to face this alone. I have to rely on my friends, people I love, to help me. You'll help me, won't you, Mulder?"

Mulder watches her, curious what's caused this change. Is that what Skinner had said to her? He remembers earlier when she had pleading for death, and she'd only recently shown signs of accepting her fate; he hopes this new surge of well-being isn't temporary. "You know I'd do anything for you. Just stay. Stay with me."

"I'll stay. I think you were right...about what you said earlier. I wasn't desperate when I was with any of you. I just wish they weren't afraid of me now. I'd really like to stay friends with them, the others. It's one thing to have what we had, and then it gets taken away like that, but to lose them forever...I don't think I could cope with that."

"You won't lose them forever. I don't know if I'd call them scared of you; surprised, maybe, but I don't think they're afraid. They're all still your friends, they care about you a lot, they want you to get well. Willing to help with whatever you need."

Scully smiles weakly, pressing a hand to his cheek, rubbing against the grain of his stubble to feel the scratchiness. "Just like what Walter told me," she breathes, "He was right."

The next morning she wakes up and finds him sprawled in his chair, head laying back against the wall with his mouth hanging open. Since last night, Scully has been floating on a feeling of optimism. That somehow things would work out. The next shift arrives, and it's the Lone Gunmen again. This time they acknowledge her with some measure of trepidation, remembering her colorful display yesterday. It throws them off completely when she greets them fairly normally. Still happier to see them than they could place in recent memory, but definitely calmer.

"Hey, guys," she says, pulling her hair back, looking completely unaffected by them seeing her in an oversized t-shirt and plaid boxer shorts. "I'm about to start some coffee; who wants some?"

Byers steps forward and intervenes, "Let me get that, Scully. You just take it easy."

Just then there's a clattering sound from the bedroom: Mulder's chair had finally tipped over, bucking him off onto the floor. He stumbles out into the living room and takes stock. "Hey guys. Morning," he yawns. "Look, I think she's gonna be okay."

"We'll be the judge of that," Frohike tells him decidedly. "She seems fine now, but..."

"Guys?" Scully calls, bringing attention back to herself, "'She' is standing right here. Mulder, let them stay. Please? I...I need to let them help." She turns to them all, mindful that in a few short years she could lose them, somewhat grateful that she doesn't know too much about the specifics. Knowing her time with them is short, they're suddenly dearer to her than they'd been before. "Thanks for coming," she tells them, looking fondly at each of them, finally giving Byers and Langley a hug. Scully and Frohike regard each other uncomfortably from a distance, both of them equally embarrassed to face each other after yesterday.

Mulder looks around at each of them and nods, "Be nice to her, all right? I'll be back tonight. Take care." He then gives her a quick kiss before heading out.

Scully makes a beeline for Frohike, knowing that she somehow has to make things right with him. "I'm sorry, Melv—Frohike," she winces a little at calling him by the last name that they'd once shared. "I hope this won't make things...weird." She twists her hands together, like she's trying to keep them to herself, to stay at a safe distance from him.

There aren't enough words to properly respond to something like this, so he nods and shuffles his feet, "That's fine. We're fine."

"Good," she ventures, fidgeting. "Look, I understand. I really do. I've...I've made my peace with it. I hope we can still be friends."

This makes Frohike look up, see the earnestness in her eyes. "That...would be great, Scully. I'd like that, too." She gives him a watery smile and clasps his hands for a moment before ducking back into the kitchen for coffee. The Gunmen all look at each other and back at her.

"So you two were really...?" Langley asks suggestively.

"I guess so, in another time."

"She sounded like she knew her stuff on Star Wars..."

"Yeah, she did. "

Byers finished making coffee, steps out into the living room, wondering aloud, "I wonder what else she picked up from you."

Scully comes out, cupping a warm mug in her hands, settling down on the couch. She looks up at them all expectantly. "So, what's on the roster today?" Turning on the TV, she immediately lights up.

The Gunmen all look at the screen, amazed at what's obviously pleased her so much. "Mystery Science Theater 3000 marathon..." Langley reports, "She's definitely one of us." He takes a seat next to her. "You're gonna be okay, kiddo. We're right behind you."

Scully looks at them all, glad they'd cleared the air, relieved that she doesn't have to go through this alone, and already feeling hopeful again. "That's all I need to know."


End file.
